Ch. 3: I Have a New Father Now

Back to Arheled

             Labor   Day   dawned,   cooler   but   still   humid. Brooke   was   roused   early   by   a   thump   from   downstairs. Hurrying   to   the   “in-law   apartment”   in   the   basement,   she   was   in   time   to   help   her   brother   Ben   out   of   a   tool   shelf   he’d   fallen   into. He   seemed   barely   able   to   keep   his   feet.

             “Ben,   where   have   you   been?”   Brooke   exclaimed   as   she   managed   to   hoist   him   upright. “We   were   afraid   you   got   killed   in   the   Park   Massacre.”

             “You   mean   the   Dragon   Wagon.”   he   mumbled,   putting   his   arm   over   her   shoulder   and   leaning   heavily   on   her. He   looked   awful,   both   bloated   and   haggard,   but   his   eyes   weren’t   bloodshot   and   there   was   no   alcohol   on   his   breath. “No,   I   wasn’t   killed.”   He   gave   her   a   queer,   almost   hungry   look   from   under   lowered   lids.

             “Did   you   have   an   accident? Were   you   at   the   hospital?”   Brooke   asked   anxiously. He   seemed   hardly   able   to   walk.

             “Well,   I   was…detained   for   a   while. Got   into   trouble. Rather   not   talk   about   it.”

             Brooke   helped   him   lie   down   on   his   bed. “You’d   better   get some   sleep.”   she   said   severely. “I’ll   fix   you   a   light   breakfast. Toast   and   cereal   will   do. Are   you   sick   at   all?”

             “Just   tired,   Little   Mommy.”   he   said   with   an   odd   smile. Brooke   felt   his   eyes   on   her   as   she   left   the   room,   and   shivered. Something   was   wrong   with   him,   all   right. He   wasn’t   usually   this   creepy.

             “So,   what   are   we   doing   for   the   great   Labor   Day? Are   we   going to   labor?”   said   Brooke   brightly   when   her   parents   got   up. Mr. Pond   laughed. Mrs.   Pond   said   gently,   “I   thought   we   could   do   something   together,    as   a   family.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Mr. Pond   ruffled   his   long   white   hair   guiltily. “I   was   thinking   I   could   just   visit   the   bar   while   you   women   hung   out.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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,   we   have   entertaining   conversations!”   Brooke   said   mock-indignantly. “How   about   we   have   a   cookout   at   the   Soldier’s   Tower? It’s   open   2-4.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “A   cookout?”   Ben   said,   pulling   himself   slowly   up   the   stairs. “Sounds   good. I’m   hungry,   and   she’s   determined   to   starve   me   on   toast   and   cereal.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Ben?! For   heaven’s   sakes,   where   the   heck   have   you   been?! We’ve   been   worried!   You   shouldn’t   do   that   to   us!”   Mrs. Pond   was   jabbering   a   mile   a   minute. Mr.   Pond   lifted   his   hand   and   said,   “Good   to   see   you’re   back.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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,   I   got   in   some   trouble,   but   I’m   all   right   now. My   buddy   dropped   me   off   this   morning. I   stagger   in   here   and   what   does   Brooke   fix   me   but   bird   food. I’m   hungry!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Well,   I   was   afraid   you   might   be   nauseous!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             They   got   the   supplies   ready. Mr. Pond   had   to   go   out   and   buy   chips,   soda,   cookies   and   such   like   things. By   1:30   they   had   everything   loaded   up. Brooke   rode   down   with   Ben,   which   meant   they   got   there   long   before   their   parents.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “We’re   early.”   she   complained,   seeing   that   the   red-shirted   men   hadn’t   even   shown   up   yet. “I   wanted   to   show   you   which   way   the   soldier   faces.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   faces   Pratt   Hill,   and   the   tower   that   was   but   no   longer   is.”   Benn   said   with   that   odd   smile.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Brooke   turned   around   to   face   him. They   were   on   the   stepped   walk   leading   up   to   the   tower   door,   and   the   grey   wind   lifted   her   yellow   hair. “How   do   you   know   that? I   don’t   remember   telling   you.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Ben   stepped   toward   her. The   smile   was   wider,   positively   creepy. Brooke   realized   with   a   sudden   horrid   chill   that   they   were   completely   alone. She   began   to   back   away. “You   didn’t. But   somebody   told   you   things,   didn’t   they? I’ve   been   told   things   too.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Stay   back,”   said   Brooke   in   a   sharp   tight   voice. “Stay   away   from   me!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Her   brother   moved   like   lightning,   arms   wrapping   around   her,   holding   her   tight. The   world   wavered,   and   when   it   cleared   they   were   no   longer   on   Camp   Hill,   but   on   Case   Mt,   high   above   any   habitation. “I   know   all about   you,   my   so-dear   sister.”   he   whispered. “We   are   not   near   any   lakes. The   Daslenga   is   too   far   for   your   call   to   reach. You’re   only   a   woman. And   a   really,   really   hot   woman,   at   that.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Greenish-blue   light   sparked   for   an   instant   far   down   in   Brooke’s   eyes. Water   condensed   out   of   the   air   in   a   flash,   building   up   between   them,   forcing   them   apart   like   a   solid   wedge. Groundwater   erupted   from   the   soil   for   thousands   of   feet   around,   leaving   it   dry   and   baked   and   split   as   in   a   drought,   and   trees   ripped   apart,   and   sap   shot   out   of   them. Towers   of   toppling   brown   rose   around   her.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   aren’t   Ben.”   she   said.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Her   brother’s   mouth   widened   awfully. “There   you’re   wrong.”   he   said. “We   share   the   same   mother,   but   not   the   same   father. I   have   a   new   father   now….”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Realisation   flashed   in   Brooke’s   eyes,   even   as   like   magic   her   brother   melted   and   swelled,   until   a   sinuous   red-purple   dragon   reared   before   her.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   need   to   cool   down,   bro.”   said   Brooke.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Water   cannonaded   like   hammer-blows   upon   him,   and   surrounded   him,   wriggling   down   into   his   throat   and   seeking   out   his   inner   fires. But   nothing   was   happening.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   dragon   was   drinking   up   all   the   water   she   was   wielding. Brooke   made   it   hard   and   cutting,   trying   to   rend   his   tissues;   but   still   nothing   was   happening. Could   he   be   invulnerable,   as   well? There   was   a   concussion   as   her   water    was   wrenched   from   her   control,   knocking   her   sprawling   on   the   leaves. And   the   Ben-dragon   stood   unharmed.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Didn’t   expect   that,   darling-sister?”   he   drawled. “How   stupid   of   you   to   assume   all   dragons   are   quenchable.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   opened   his   great   mouth. “But   if   you   remember   your   Bible,   the   only   dragon   it   describes   had   other   powers   than   fire!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Water   blasted   from   his   mouth. Black,   heavy   with   decay   and   poison,   the   miasma   of   it   was   almost   worse   than   the   pollution   of   its’   touch. Brooke   was   borne   back.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Ben   ceased   his   torrent   in   order   to   draw   breath. His   eyes   bulged. Brooke   stood   before   him,   unwetted,   the   black   water   whirling   in   her   hands   like   solid   scythe-blades. She   sent   it   upon   him,   chopping   and   drilling,   unhindered   by   the   black   floods   he   poured   from   his   mouth.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Something   smashed   her,   seized   her,   crushed   her. Stars   burst   in   her   eyes   as   her   head   was   bashed   against   a   tree. Unseen   hands   smashed   her   down,   again   and   again. Ben,   slowly   changing   back   to   human   form,   made   a   sign   and   the   beating   ceased.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “We   have   a   power   that   you   do   not,   streamgirl.”   he   said   in   her   ear   as   he   lifted   her   up. “Black   magic. Not   even   the   Road   can   protect   you   from   your   own   brother.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Numb   with   horror   and   despair,   Brooke   could   not   make   a   sound. She   heard   her   brother   panting. A   belt   buckle   clattered   as   it   was   loosed. She   felt   the   screams   rising   like   vomit   in   her   throat. She   opened   her   mouth.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   world   whirled   and   came   down   on   her. Leaves   were   under   her,   slimed   and   black   with   the   noxious   flood. She   coughed   from   the   impact,   and   the   movement   made   her   head   split. Sitting   up   and   cradling   her   various   injuries,   Brooke   blinked.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Between   her   and   Ben   a   huge   figure   with   wild   black   hair   had   arisen   from   the   ground. A   ragged   mantle   whipped   about   him. The   dragon   was   coiling   backwards,   fear in   its’   eyes.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   is   underneath   the   Road.”   snarled   the   Wild   Man   of   Winsted.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   dragon   vanished—and   slowly   came   back   into   view,   remorselessly   hauled   back   by   the   power   of   the   Wild   Man. “Oh,   no   you   don’t.”   he   growled. “I   hear   your   father   can   raise   the   dead….I   will   compel   him   to   do   so   if   he   wants   to   fetch   you   home.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   dragon   exploded   with   a   hideous   plop,   and   the   slime   of   its’   corpse   sank   into   the   ground,   and   the   slime   on   the   leaves   evaporated,   until   there   was   no   trace   of   the   fight. Nor   of   Ben.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   Wild   was   bending   over   her,   and   his   great   hairy   hands   passed   lightly   over   her   bruised   body,   and   all   the   pain   left. “You   are   all   right?”   he   said   gruffly,   and   yet   with   a   peculiar   gentleness. Looking   up   she   saw   with   amazement   a   look   in   his   eyes   that   had   never   been   there   before:   compassion. “He   did   not   consummate?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   never   had   time.”   she   stammered. “Th-thank   you.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Wild   bowed   his   head. “I’m   glad   I   was   in   time.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   I   didn’t   call   you.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Your   heart   called,   and   my   heart   answered;   and   I   came.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   I   owe   you   Wild?”   said   Brooke   mournfully. “I   cannot   pay   you.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   owe   me   nothing.”   he   said   almost   savagely. “I   came   without   bargain. I   will   ask   no   price   of   you,   Brooke. Only—only   your   smile,”   his   voice   fell   to   an   embarrassed   mutter,   “and   your   good   will.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Brooke   looked   up   at   him,   her   whole   face   aglow   with   intense   wonder. “You   have   both.”   she   said   softly,   “and   my   gratitude   as   well.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             His   smile   was   almost   bashful. “It   is   strange,”   he   murmered. “I,   who   have   walked   and   wooed   for   a   hundred   years   of   men,   have   never   received   such   joy   of   my   wooing   as   I   know   now. Why   does   one   smile   from   her   cause   more   joy   within   me   than   ten   hundred   wooings? What   is   it?....Why   is   it?...”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             A   strange   dizzying   lightness   swirled   within   Brooke,   as   if   she   stood   on   the   edge   of   a   cliff. “I   think   it’s   called   love.”   she   said.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   Wild   Man’s   face   twisted. “The   Wild   Man   in   love,”   he   laughed   bitterly,   “The   Wild   Man   gets   married,   bringing   up   lots   of   little   wild   children! Will   they,   perhaps,   be   half   mountain,   he   wonders? And   who   teaches   them   school?”   His   expression   grew   grim,   bitter   and   sorrowful   like   a   thousand   years   of   death. “I   will   leave,   before   I   forget   and   think   for   one   moment   of   insanity   that   I   am   human.”   He   bent   down   towards   Brooke. “But if   ever   you   have   need,   I   will   hear;   and   I   will   come,   nor   will   I   demand   a   bargain   of   you.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   very   kind,   Wild,”   said   Brooke   shyly,   and   getting   up   she   slowly   slipped   both   arms   around   him. “Thank   you.”   She   gave   him   a   swift   little   kiss. He   looked   at   her,   a   wild   grief   and   joy   in   his   fey   uncanny   eyes,   before   earth   flowed   through   her   arms   and   sank   into   the   ground;   and   he   was   gone.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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 class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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 class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   trees   above   the   Beardsley   Library   were   turning   a   crumpled   brown,   but   the   air   was   warm   and   even   hot. After   riding   up   from   Burrville,   Ronnie   Wendy   was   sweating. He   went   downstairs,   navigating   the   rabbit   warren   with   the   ease   of   long   familiarity,   and   washed   up   in   the   bathroom. Nerissa,   the   pretty   librarian,   looked   up   and   smiled   when   she   saw   him. She   had   her   hair   down   today,   hanging   in   honey   ringlets   about   her   ears,   and   her   buxom   bust   was   emphasized   by   a   pale   blue   ruffled   dress   with   a   bodice.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Hello.”   she   said. “Do   you   want   a   computer?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “One   of   these   days   I’m   going   to   surprise   you   by   walking   in   and   saying   I   don’t   want   a   computer.”   he   drawled.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   smiled   secretly. “Numbers   2 and   3   are   open.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Guess   what. Dragons   were   sighted   in   Burr   Pond!”   he   said   off-the-wall. Nerissa’s   eyes   got   large,   blank   and   dumbfounded. “Oh   my.”   she   said.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “I   was   joking. What   with   what   happened   at   the   carnival,   it’s   probably   not   so   funny. But   I   love   making   you   say   that.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Nerissa   smiled   again. “I’ll   put   you   down   for   Number   2.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Thank   you   very   much!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   welcome   very   much.”   It   was   another   of   her   peculiarities. Ronnie   got   on   the   computer   and   checked   his   email. There   was   a   letter   from   Brooke,   rather   incoherent   and   full   of   emotion,   about   her   traumatic   experience   on   Labor   Day   several   days   ago   and   the   peculiar   behavior   of   Wild. Another   letter,   from   Lara,   very   short   and   saying   that   she   had   dreamed   again   about   Sophia   but   couldn’t   remember   anything   except   that   she   had   been   baking   pies   out   of   starlight—“It   was   a   bit   nonsensical.”   He   sent   replies   to   both,   a   sympathetic   one   to   Brooke   and   a   careful   one   to   Lara,   who   even   though   she   was   twelve   years   his   junior   still   filled   him   with   an   odd   wary   respect,   saying   that   it   might   seem   like   nonsense,   just   like   Arheled’s   rhymes,   and   yet   have   some   meaning. Then   he   left.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Bye,   Nerissa.”   he   said   as   he   passed   the   desk.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Bye. Have   a   good   weekend.”   But   for   some   reason   she   didn’t   smile.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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 class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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 class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Who   is   the   Green   Lady?”   Bell   wanted   to   know. Forest,   who   was   trying   to   concentrate   on   his   horrible   math   work   so   he   could   get   it   over   with,   groaned   and   didn’t   answer. The   oak   leaves   overhead   rustled   in   the   wind.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   not   listening   to   me.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Well,   we’re   only   out   here   at   all   because   we   told   Dad   we   couldn’t   concentrate   inside.”   he   retorted. “And   we’re   supposed   to   be   doing   schoolwork.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Well,   we   need   a   break.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Shut   up   and   come   back   later.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Hmph.”   Bell   sniffed,   and   buried   her   nose   in   her   own   math   book. Two   minutes   went   by. Then   Bell   started   groaning   and   muttering   about   math   torture—she   vastly   enjoyed   not   having   to   worry   about   disturbing   the   class—until   Forest   got   up   and   sat   on   the   dock.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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’s   the   schoolwork   coming?”   said   Hunter   Light,   coming   over   from   where   he’d   been   loading   things   into   his   car. “I’ll   quiz   you   before   I   take   off,   but   I   have   to   be   getting   back   to   the   College;   my   lunch   break   is   over. I’ll   expect   you   to   actually   have   some   work   done   by   the   time   your   mother   comes   home. Can   I   trust   you?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “We’ll   work   every   now   and   then.”   Bell   smiled   sweetly.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Uh-huh. Well,   if   you   don’t   make   some   progress,   young   lady,   I   just   might   stick   you   back   in   school   again!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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,   we’re   at   least   four   chapters   ahead   of   where   we   usually   are   in   school.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   took   their   books   and   flipped   through   the   chapters   they’d   been   studying,   questioning   them   at   random. It   was   the   same   method,   he   assured   them,   by   which   teachers   drew   up   tests,   but   Bell   accused   him   of   deliberate   malice   in   his   choice   of   questions. Despite   this   they   answered   well   enough   to   satisfy   him,   although   he   still   ordered   them   to   re-study   this,   that   and   the   other   problem   they’d   messed   up   on.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   know   we’re   going   to   forget   this   the   moment   we’re   done   with   the   book.”   Forest   said   gloomily.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Well,   enough   of   it   might   remain   to   be   of   help   in   later   years,   I   know   it   did   with   me.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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,   you’re   a   natural   math   freak.”   said   Bell.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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,   watch   your   manners,   little   lady!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   drove   off,   and   Bell   and   Forest   looked   at   each   other,   grinned   ferociously,   slammed   their   books   shut   and   raced   inside   to   get   their   suits. Forest   got   cold   pretty   quick,   but   Bell   stayed   in   so   long   he   had   already   cooked   some   scrambled   eggs   by   the   time   she   came   inside. Her   teeth   were   clacking   loudly. Forest   shoved   a   mug   of   hot   tea toward   her.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Thanks.”   she   said   when   her   jaws   finally   shut   up. “How’d   you   know   I’d   need   that?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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’s   September,   dummy.”   he   retorted. “Everybody   but   you   knows   that   autumn   water   is   cold.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Well,   it’s   not   officially   autumn   until   the   Equinox,   double   dummy.”   she   shot   right   back. “And   in   case   you   didn’t   notice,   the   thermometer   reads   80.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Dummy   to   the   umpteenth   power.”   Forest   had   had   to   study   the   powers   of   100.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “I   love   doing   schoolwork   with   you.”   sighed   Bell. “Homeschooling   is   so   much   fun.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   when   Dad’s   around.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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’s   a   teacher. He   knows   how   to   teach.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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’s   a    professor. He’s   only   supposed   to   profess.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   can’t   profess   schoolwork.”   Bell   protested. “You   profess   things   like   faith   or   beliefs.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “I   wonder   why   they   ever   call   them   that.”   mused   Forest. “Maybe   because   they…”   ''Professed   opinions   about   their   subjects? ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “They?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             With   a   groan   Forest   repeated   what   he’d   thought.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   getting   there.”   sighed   Bell. “I’m   going   to   teach   you   how   to   open   up   like   a   normal   person   before   winter   comes.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             No   you   won’t,   thought   Forest. She   deduced   his   thought   from   the   prim   expression   he   had,   and   rolled   her   eyes.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Forest   looked   at   the   clock   and   heaved   a   sigh. “We   should   get   back   to   drudgery   in   five   minutes.”   he   observed   dolefully. “Lunch   shouldn’t   be   more   than   an   hour.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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,   so   let’s   just   relax   and   talk   about   things   that   really   matter—like   this   Green   Lady. I   thought   you   guys   freed   her;   so   what   was   Arheled   saying   there   are   two?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “I   don’t   remember   him   saying   that.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Well,   somebody   said   it. Are   there?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “I   looked   it   up,”   said   Forest   haltingly. “There   were   two. There   was   the   Green   Lady   of   Winchester,   green   lights   and   mist   drifting   around   the   grave   of   Mary   Crocker,   and   she’s   the   one   we   freed,   the   imprisoned   ghost   of   the   Star. Then   there’s   the   other   one.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “That   one’s   in   Burlington,   right?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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.”   said   Forest. “That   one   had   a   creepy   story   around   it. The   Seventh   Day   Adventists   lived   there   a   couple   hundred   years   ago—that   was   their   cemetery—and   they   seem   to   have   been   persecuted   by   the Baptists   around   them. At   least,   they   probably   were   Baptist—`most   everybody   was   in   these   parts   back   them—but   I   hope   not. The   Adventists   had   the   worst   luck. Accidents   happened   with   such   frequency—trees   falling   on   them,   equipment   breaking,   so   on—that   foul   play   was   suspected. Even   preternatural   foul   play. After   a   while   they   had   so   many   die    the   others   gradually   moved   out.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Makes   you   ashamed   of   your   church.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Well,   just   because   we   have   bad   men   in   our   past   doesn’t   make   our   doctrines   false. That’s   what   the   Catholics   say   about   the   priest   scandals.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   go   on. Where’s   the   Green   Lady   come   into   this?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Her   name   was   Elisabeth   Palmiter. She   and   her   husband   lived   next   to   the   cemetery,   in   a   little   house   he   had   made   for   her.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Winter   came. Goodman   Palmiter   went   to   town   one   day   for   supplies,   and   a   heavy   snowstorm   struck. Night   drew   in,   and   snow   fell   heavier,   and   he   still   had   not   returned. So   Elisabeth,   fearful   that   he   had   lost   himself,   took   a   lantern   and   headed   into   the   woods   to   look   for   him.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Some   ways   back   from   the   cemetery   is   a   swamp. The   ice   must   have   given   beneath   her,   or   the   snow   hid   the   pools,   but   in   she   fell,   and   she   could   not   get   out,   sinking   slowly,   filling   the   woods   with   her   screams,   but   no   one   came.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">“At   last   a   star   grew   in   the   lonely   thick   paleness   of   dark   falling   snow. A   lantern,   bobbing   back   and   forth,   making   its’   way   across   the   treacherous   pools. A   face   became   visible   beneath   it,   and   it   was   a   face   she   knew. Her   husband,   Benjamin.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   cried   out   to   him   to   help   her,   to   save   her,   but   he   stood   as   one   turned   into   stone,   watching,   unhelping,   holding   the   lantern   over   her   head   as   it   slipped   under   the   mud,   and   she   breathed   in   mire,   and   the   swamp   took   her.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Bell   listened   as   if   turned   into   stone   herself. Her   brother   had   changed,   changed   in   so   many   ways   from   the   boy   she   remembered. He   gulped   a   little,   blinked,   and   went   on   in   a   more   ordinary   voice.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “There’s   been   stories   of   her   ghost   ever   since. A   quiet   serene   ghost,   usually   a   transparent   green   mist   of   female   shape   with   quiet   smiling   features. Or   an   unmoving   light   like   a   lantern. They   say   she   haunted   her   husband   to   death. One   pair   of   ghost   hunters   back   in   2008   captured   a   photo   of   a   curving   green   mist,   even   though   they   didn’t   see   anything. I’ve   seen   it;   it   needs   some   imagination   to   make   it   look   like   a   woman,   but   it   did   hold   together.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Was   that   what   really   happened?”   Bell   said.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Well,   there   were   two   other   versions.”   Forest   said,   rumpling   his   hair. “One   has   her   husband   coming   back   the   next   day   and   finding   her   frozen   to   death,   and   the   other   has   him   search   the   swamp   with   neighbors   until   they   found   her   dead. If   she   fell   in   the   water   on   a   subzero   night,   yes   she   would   freeze   pretty   fast. I   suppose   no   one   will   know.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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 class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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 class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   day   after   was   Brooke’s   birthday.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   held   a   party   at   her   house,   inviting   (of   course)   her   fellow   Children   of   the   Road,   though   when   they   severally   showed   up   they   saw   they   were   not   the   only   ones. Cars   lined   the   road   for   a   hundred   feet   or   so. From   inside   the   strains   of   loud-ish   music—so   essential   to   a   party—could   be   heard   faintly. Ronnie   got   out   of   his   truck   a   little   wearily;   he’d   been   sawing   small   trees   for   a   customer   all   day,   stopping   for   a   swim   on   the   way   in   order   to   clean   up,   so   he   was   tired. Several   car   doors   closed   at   the   same   time,   and   he   was   not   at   all   surprised   to   see   Forest   and   Bell,   Lara   and   Travel   all   converging   on   the   house.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Wow,   what’d   you   do,   Travel,   teleport   everyone   here?”   he   said. “Uncanny   timing.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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,   you   know   that   only   seems   to   happen   in   emergancies.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “I   don’t   know.”   said   Forest. “I   think   our   powers   might   be   growing. Mine   are.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   Road   is   drawing   nearer.”   nodded   Ronnie.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “I   saw   Murzim   last   light.”   Lara   put   in. She   looked   wan,   almost   anxious,   but   her   eyes   gleamed   with   an   odd   blank   brilliance   Ronnie   had   only   seen   in   flashes   in   her   before. “And   the   Wolf   Star.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   Great   Dog?”   said   Ronnie.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Wolf.”   she   said   decidedly. “A   wolf,   pursuing   the   Herald. Opening   his   jaws   to   swallow   Daslenga. I   hate   dogs.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Seconded.”   grinned   Ronnie. “I   don’t   think   Travel   likes   dogs….I’m   sure   Forest   doesn’t…do   any   of   us   like   dogs?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “If   they’re   cute   and   nice,   I   do.”   said   Bell. “I   hate   the   big   barky   kind.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Ronnie   swatted   ferociously   at   about   ten   mosquitos   that   were   trying   sneak   attacks   from   several   directions. “Let’s   get   inside   before   these   things   make   me   a   zombie.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “I   know,   I’ve   been   bitten   all   day.”   sighed   Travel,   indicating   her   legs. Perfect   rows   of   red   spots   ran   up   them. Bell   whistled. “So   that’s   what   those   are.”   she   said. “I   wondered.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Of   course   they’re   bug   bites;   what   did   you   think   they   were?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “I   thought   they   were   decorative   tattoos!”   Ronnie   interjected   triumphantly. Both   girls   stared   at   him   with   their   mouths   open   for   a   second   before   dissolving   into   stitches. Even   Forest   was   snickering.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Wow,   that’s   a   good   one.”   gasped   Travel   when   she   had   to   some   extent   recovered. “Okay,   let’s   go   inside.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   music   grew   louder   as   the   door   opened,   punk   ‘80s   rock,   but   all   rock   was   alike   and   despised   by   Ronnie. He   preferred   actual   music. Inside,   Brooke   had   the   air   conditioner   going,   a   relief   after   the   hazy   sticky   air   of   outdoors. About   ten   or   eleven   young   people   were   orbiting   around,   occasionally   oscillating   around   the   food   table   but   mostly   clustering   in   small   groups   here   and   there. Ronnie   recognized   some   of   them:   a   short-haired   buxom   girl   with   a   brassy   attitude   and   jeans   and   low-cut   blouse   who   had   to   be   Delilah,   and   another   girl   with   a   round   pretty   and   lively   face,   dark   hair   and   glasses,   who   he   knew   at   once,   and   had   never   expected   to   see   again. His   eyes   glowed   under   his   brows   as   he   glanced   around. For   an   instant   his   brown   pupils   seemed   to   be   tinged   with   red. None   of   the   others   were   familiar.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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,   you   finally   got   here,   guys!”   greeted   Brooke,   hugging   and   shaking   hands   all   round. “What’s   wrong,   Ronnie? You   look   like   you’re   declaring   war.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   was   not   Ronnie   who   answered   her,   but   Forest. Shorter   than   Ronnie,   but   only   by   an   inch   or   so   since   his   growth   spurt,   his   eyes   burned   strangely   in   his   pale   face. “Why   have   you   filled   up   your   house   with   enemies,   daughter   of   the   streams?”   he   said.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “I…beg   your   pardon?”   stammered   Brooke.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   have   you   opened   the   doors   of   the   house   of   your   father   to   the   foes   of   your   face,   Brook   of   the   Rivers?”   the   small   but   somehow   terrible   voice   of   Forest   pressed.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   sounding   like   Arheled.”   she   said. “I   don’t   know   what’s   wrong   with   you,   Forest. They’re   my   friends.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “No,”   said   Ronnie,   looking   slowly   around,   “not   all   of   them. Were   you   so   far   gone,   then,   in   misery   that   you   did   not   remember   who   tortured   you   that   night? When   Wild   made   a   bargain   and   put   your   house   beneath   the   Road?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Realisation   dawned   slowly   on   Brooke’s   face. “Deli.”   she   breathed.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   drank   the   Witch’s   brew.”   said   Forest.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   only   her.”   said   Ronnie. “Make   some   excuse. Get   her,   and   her,   and   her   outside,”   he   pointed   as   he   spoke,   “but   don’t   get   them   suspicious. Let   us   deal   with   them.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Brooke   gave   them   both   a   pained   look. “Can’t   I   even   enjoy   a   party   with   a   few   old   friends?”   she   said   softly. “Do   you   have   to   be   Sons   of   the   Road   every   minute   of   the   day? With   my   brother   dead,   can’t   I   at   least   enjoy   the   day?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Get   them   outside.”   Ronnie   repeated. “Or   this   house   might   be   destroyed. Do   you   think   they   did   not   know   that   it   was   held   against   them   until   you   let   them   in? I   know   her. That   lively   one. I   saw   her   change,   that   day   at   the   carnival. She   is   dragon.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   beating,   ceaseless   jabber   of   the   rock   music   around   her   suddenly   seemed   threatening   to   Brooke,   like   the   horrid   merry   laughter   of   a   gang   advancing   on   a   victim.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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’s   just   that…I   knew   these   girls   from   school.”   Her   voice   had   tears   in   it. “I   thought   I   could   back   there…be   normal   again…I   liked   them,   for   Pete’s   sake!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “St. Peter   has   to   turn   away   a   lot   of   folk   he   likes.”   said   Ronnie   sadly.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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,   shut   up.”   said   Brooke   wretchedly. “I   wish   I’d   never   invited   you. You’re   all   becoming   the   same. I   would   hate   you,   but   you   can’t   hate   people   you’re   bound   to. Go   try   to   have   some   fun   for   once   in   your   lives. I’ll   take   them   outside.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   mind   them,”   Bell   said   in   Brooke’s   ear,   taking   her   arm. “They’re   boys. Boys   are   all   ‘battle   and   death’,   you   know? We’ll   both   talk   to   them. Maybe   the   boys   are   wrong.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Travel   and   Lara   hung   around   in   a   corner,   nibbling   on   goodies. The   people   around   mostly   ignored   them,   except   one   or   two   of   the   boys,   who   struck   up   conversation   but   seemed   very   ill   at   actually   maintaining   one. As   none   of   them   knew   Chesterton   or   anything   else   interesting,   Lara   decided   they   were   a   waste   and   went   out   on   the   porch   to   where   Bell   and   Brooke   were   chatting   with   the   girls   that   Ronnie   had   indicated. She   knew   better   than   to   take   Ronnie   lightly,   and   watched   them   carefully   without   seeming   to;   but   the   girls   certainly   didn’t   seem   like   witches. Or   dragons,   though   Lara   had   only   experienced   two,   and   had   no   idea   if   Mrs. Lane   was   representative   of   all   girl   dragons.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Travel   had   managed   to   find   a   few   movies   and   books   in   common   with   the   boys,   and   was   even   beginning   to   enjoy   herself. Over   in   a   corner   she   spied   Ronnie,   working   on   two   full   plates. Forest   was   nowhere   to   be   seen. And   the   music   played,   and   the   laughter   of   the   girls   rang   out   from   the   standing   groups,   but   the   whole   scene   felt   eerie,   almost   unreal,   somehow.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   leaned   on   the   railing   for   a   while,   listening   to   the   girls   chattering   down   below. Somehow   there   was   something   about   it,   about   them,   that   the   longer   she   listened   the   stranger   it   felt. The   words   of   the   other   girls   were   coarse   and   frank,   and   they   exclaimed   vulgar   phrases   with   the   same   effortless   ease   as   Lara   would   have   used   when   saying   “Oh   gosh.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “OMG! You   are   so   not   f—ing   with   me,   are   you? There   really   was   something! Holy   f--! I   can’t   believe   it!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   wanted   to   see   your   ---s? Swear   to   f--?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   looked   down   at   Bell   and   Brooke. Bell’s   face   looked   a   little   tight. Brooke   seemed   to   be   almost   desperately   reaching,   reaching   for   a   time   when   she   would   have   enjoyed   this   sort   of   sewer—oh,   not   talked   it   herself,   of   course,   but   groaned   and   laughed   at   the   gross   jokes   and   grosser   references…and   not   finding   it.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   boys   are   right.”   Lara   muttered. She   almost   caught   herself   saying   they   were   f—ing   right,   and   winced. It   was   bad   enough   at   work. When   relaxed,   it   had   a   way   of   really   worming   into   you.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             There   was   a   crash   of   breaking glass. She   almost   screamed   as   Ronnie   and   Travel   hurtled   over   her   head,   glass   flying   around   them;   and   then   without   even   a   warning   shiver   she   was   Cold,   it   was   her   and   she   was   it,   and   glass   froze   and   shattered   to   dusty   snow,   and   her   friends   landed   in   a   sudden   snowbank. She   turned   around,   unearthly   light   growing   in   her   eyes;   and   the   door   had   reappeared,   and   it   was   locked   shut. And   through   it   Cornello   grinned.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Now   Brooke   was   yanking   at   the   door,   trying   to   open   it;   and   from   inside   their   enemy   laughed.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “This   house   is   under   the   power   of   Chaos.”   she   heard   him   clearly   say.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “No,”   she   heard   the   voice   of   Forest,   in   an   equally   clear   tone,   though   Lara   could   not   see   him;   and   from   the   way   he   was   turning   and   peering,   neither   could   Cornello. “I   entered   by   her   invitation. I   remained   when   you   expelled   the   Road. In   me   the   Road   has   a   foothold,   and   you   cannot   shut   it   out.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Brooke   suddenly   got   the   door   open. Her   flesh   was   oddly   transparent,   shimmering,   wavering;   water   was   building between   her   hands. They   walked   inside,   slowly,   deliberately,   one   on   each   side.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Indeed   you   are   growing   fell.”   smiled   Cornello. “Good. Your   fall will   be   all   the   more   bitter   when   it   comes. Your   sorrow   will   never   begin   to   fade.”   He   chuckled   as   at   some   private   joke.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Behind   them   Travel   mounted   the   stairs. In   her   eyes   a   blue   flame   was   sputtering. She   threw   out   one   arm,   her   hand   crooked. Cornello   choked,   sudden   surprise   on   his   beefy   face. She   closed   her   fist. There   was   a   blue   waver   in   the   air   around   him,   and   around   the   three   enemy   girls   outside,   and   abruptly   they   were   sucked   backward   into   it   and   were   gone.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Well,”   said   Ronnie,   clapping   her   on   the   shoulder,   “that   was   a   pretty   quick   use   of   your   power.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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.”   muttered   Travel. Guys   and   girls   were   slowly   slipping   out   the   front   and   side,   giving   them   scared   and   angry   looks. Some   of   the   girls   looked   ready   for   hysterics.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Sorry   for   your   party.”   Ronnie   said   awkwardly   to   Brooke.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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,   I   wasn’t   enjoying   it   anyway. Oh,   shut   the   confounded   h--   up!”   as   she   savagely   turned   off   the   radio. Blessed   silence   fell   on   the   room.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Expect   a   few   cops   any   minute.”   said   Ronnie   dryly. “I   saw   some   girls   going   for   their   phones.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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—f—g—ooh,   I    hate   those   foul-mouthed   little   bitches!”   exploded   Brooke. “What   is   that   funny   thing   you   always   say—“

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   alternates   between   crumblesticks   and   snapplepops.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Crumblesticksicles. My   parents   aren’t   home,   and   no   way   am   I   going   to   pull   it   off   with   the   cops.”   Sirens   sounded   in   the   distance,   lending   urgency   to   the   situation.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Travel!”   barked   Ronnie. “Can   you   take   all   of   us—and   our   cars?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Um…wow,   I   might.”   said   Travel. “Can   you   all,   like,   stand   in   a   group?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             They   moved   together. A   blue   light   began   to   grow   in   Travel’s   eyes. Then   they   became   blank   and   hard,   and   the   air   around   the   others,   and   their   cars,   grew   luminous   blue,   wavering   as   if   by   heat   waves. Sirens   grew   louder,   coming   up   the   hill   from   Winsted. Abruptly   the   wavering   blue   imploded,   and   the   howling   police   cars   that   screamed   up   to   the   house   found   a   deserted   building.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   whirled   around   them. Cold   and   ancient   voices now   many   ages   silent   sang   from   hidden   places. Then   suddenly   they   reappeared,   tumbling   in   a   heap   in   the   grass   of   the   field   across   from   the   Lane   house. Their   cars   faced   every   which   way,   but   they   were   upright.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Sorry.”   she   said. “I’m   still   learning.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “May   I   suggest   more   practice?”   growled   Ronnie   as   he   got   out   from   under   Lara   and   rubbed   his   hip.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “At   least   they’re   right   way   up.”   said   Lara.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “This   has   been   such   a   stinking   day.”   muttered   Brooke.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   welcome   to   a   sleepover   at   my   place.”   said   Travel. “Say,   if   I   call   a   few   friends,   we   might   actually   get   in   some   party   time   after   all.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Good   idea. Let   me   leave   Dad   a   message.”

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<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   Midwinter   stood   out   in   her   yard,   at   the   crest   of   the   hill   in   Riverton,   enjoying   the   wonderful   cold   that was   descending. The   morning   had   been   sticky   as   usual,   but   then   around   noon it   poured,   and   as   it   did   it   got   colder,   as   if   the   humid   warmth   was   being   scrubbed   from   the   sky. Now   as   evening   fell   there   was   a   definite   bite   in   the   air. Lilac   shivered   and   pulled   on   her   sweater.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Aren’t   you   cold,   Lara?”   she   said.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   smiled. “I’m   beyond   cold. I   passed   cold   a   long   time   ago. Cold   has   become   wedded   into   my   essence.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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’ve   been   reading   Chesterton   again.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Boethius,   actually.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Lilac   put   her   head   in   her   hands. “I   knew   it   was   a   mistake   to   get   you   that   for   your   birthday.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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,   my   birthday   was   eight   months   ago,   and   I   only   just   got   around   to   it.”   She’d   been   born   Dec. 22nd.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   sound   like   you’re   on   Prozac.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “That   would   explain   why   I’m   so   prosaic.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Are   you   pro-Zack   or   pro-Saiah?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   pretended   to   consider. “That   would   depend   on   whether   any   of   my   friends   were   con-Zack.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Or   con-Vict.”   said   Lilac   slyly.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “I   don’t   even   know   anyone   named   Victor!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   went   back   inside,   surrendering   to   the   cold,   but   Lara   stayed   out. She   wanted   to   soak   in   the   cold,   to   glory   in   it,   although   her   flesh   was   getting   goose   prickles. Stupid   flesh. Why   couldn’t   she   become   the   Cold   at   will?

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   next   morning   the   thermometer   read   40. Lara   had   to   get   up   at   5      for   her   shift,   and   when   she   drove   into   Winsted   the   stars   were   so   clear   and   bright   in   the   new   clean   air   she   drove   into   the   park   and   got   out   of   her   car   and   stood,   gazing   at   them. No   streetlights   ruined   the   view. High   in   the   west   the   Moon,   nearly   at   the   full,   stared   coldly   down,   one   of   the   Planets   gleaming   next   to   her. Across   from   her   the   Herald   strode   up   the   sky,   no   longer   on   his   back   but   tilting   forward,   his   silver   bow   drawn,   his   bright   knees   buried   in   the   river   of   dim   stars. Daslenga   flowed   across   the   sky,   until   the   eastern   horizon   swallowed   him;   and   at   his   head,   behind   the   Herald,   two   stars   stood   prominent,   pointing   at   the   Herlad’s   knees:   Sirius   the   Wolf’s   Nose,   and   Murzim   the   Herald,   sign   of   the   true   West,   not   aligning   with   the   earth’s   West   until   sunset,   when   both   sun   and   Herald   were   together.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Lingeringly   Lara   got   back   into   her   car   and   drove   to   McDonald’s,   and   got   out,   there   to   resume   the   boring   drudgery   of   earning   money.

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<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Travel   woke   up   a   whole   hour   early.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   sleepily   checked   her   alarm. Nope,   the   glow-in-the-dark   hands   said   5:00,   not   6,   and   it   was   dark   out   anyway. The   bite   on   her   nose   told   her   why   she   woke   up:   the   room   was   cold. Really   cold. Shivering,   Travel   pulled   on   a   sweater   over   her   pajamas   and   tucked   in   the   thin   covers. She   should   have   listened   to   Grandmother   and   unpacked   the   winter   quilt   on   Sept. 1st,   whether   it   was   hot   out   or   not.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   much   use. Half   an   hour   later   Travel   got   dressed,   putting   on   two   shirts   and   a   hat   and   finally   feeling   warm,   and   took   her   time   eating   breakfast. It   was   a   good   thing   her   new   school   clothes   were   fall   ones;   during   the   hot   weather   of   the   first   three   weeks   she’d   had   to   keep   wearing   her   summer   ones. Idly   she   wondered   if   there   was   a   frost   out. A   memory   of   far-off   days   floated   into   her   mind,   eating   breakfast   in   a   rush   while   Mom,   tall   and   blond   and   stately,   nagged   her   on   being   late. Tears   stung   her   eyes   and   she   thought   hastily   of   something   else.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   was   quite   nippy   when   she   emerged   at   quarter   to   7,   but   there   was   only   dew   on   the   grass   and   no   frost. She   was   startled   to   see   Wayham   Lane   standing   in   the   lawn,   stock   and   still   his   eyes   half-shut. He   wore   an   old   pair   of   corduroy   pants   and   a   big   plaid   jacket;   a   red   plaid   scarf   was   wrapped   around   his   neck. Dew   gleamed   on   his   shoulders   and   in   his   long   hair.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   long   have   you   been o out?”   she   said.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Wayham   came   alive   with   a   jerk. “Oh,   I   guess   since   dark,   maybe,   when   it   was   dark   out   still,   I   mean. I   suppose   I   should   go   in.”   He   hugged   himself   and   shivered. “Sometimes   I   forget   I   am   now   flesh,   and   think   myself   still   tree,   and   the   tree-stupor   puts   mind   and   body   to   sleep. Ooof!”   He   stretched. “Flesh   does   not   like   to   stand   in   the   cold   overlong. Oh,   you   are   off   to   school. Don’t   let   me   keep   you. I   suppose   the   bus   will   come   any   minute.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   comes   at   7.”   said   Travel. She   checked   her   watch. “Which   gives   me   five   whole   minutes.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   you’d   better   run,   little   lass.”   chuckled   the   ancient   man. “Be   a   good   girl   at   school   now,   okay?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   sound   like   some   crazy   old   doting   uncle.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Well,   I   am   your   ancestor.”   replied   Wayham. “Your   many-times-great   grandfather. How   many   greats   would   that   be…? Hmm…..seven   times   seven,   no…”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   left   him   to   his   musings   and   raced   down   the   driveway. All   the   maples   were   suddenly   fading   yellow   in   the   woods   and   speckled   red   in   the   swamp,   and   leaves   blew   past   upon   a   clear   cold   wind. It   was   remarkable   how   clear   and   fresh   the   air   was   now. The   humid   haze   had   been   swept   away   s   with   giant   brooms. Hills   several   miles   off   showed   dark   green   instead   of   faint   smoky   blue. Travel   breathed   deeply   and   laughed.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Another   kid   was   waiting   at   the   head   of   her   driveway,   she   was   surprised   to   see. He   was   a   moody-looking   sort   of   boy,   about   her   age—but   then   of   course   he   would   be,   if   he   was   waiting   for   her   bus—with   dark   handsome   eyes   and   a   lean   craig-like   face. Her   heart   beat   faster.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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,   you   must   be   new.”   she   said.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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,   they   changed   my   bus   stop. Used   to   get   picked   up   at   my   house,   down   the   road   there,   but   then   they   merged   stops   cause   two   so   close   together   was   stupid. So   what’s   your   name?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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,   I’m   Travel. Travel   Lane.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Nice. I’m   Ben. Just   moved   here   this   summer.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   yellow   bus   came   lumbering   down   Smith   Hill   from   Winsted,   stopping for   them   with   a   long-drawn   scream   of   bad   brakes. Why   all   school   busses   had   loud   brakes   Travel   could   never   understand,   but   there   it   was. She   got   on   board,   Ben   behind   her. Now   that   she   was   17   she   could   drop   out   of   Regional,   she   supposed,   but   Dad   wanted   her   to   finish   school,   despite   the   fact   that   she   could   learn   in   a   moth   of   study   whatever   else   they   would   teach   her   in   a   whole   year. She   sat   down   beside   Jenna,   who   greeted   her   as   usual   with   a   sniff,   and   the   bus   got   underway,   to   eventually   make   its’   way   to   Regional   High   School   in   Winsted.

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<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Wayham!”   Grandmother   Lane’s   sharp   call   made   the   ancient   man   start,   for   the   second   time   that   morning. He   stirred   himself,   stalking   stiffly   across   the   lawn   and   onto   the   porch. Grandmother   Lane   shut   the   door   behind   him.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   said   you   would   have   a   fire   going   when   I   got   up!”   she   scolded. “Don’t   tell   me:   you   went   out   for   sticks   and   fell   asleep   on   your   feet   again. You’re   going   to   catch   cold. Here,   drink   some   tea   and   come   and   have   breakfast.”   A   fire   was   already   dancing   in   the   hearth,   Wayham   noticed. Sheepishly   he   sat   down   at   the   table   and   sipped   the   tea.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Twenty   greats.”   he   said   triumphantly. “I   am   Travel’s   twenty-onest-great-grandfather.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Is   that   what   you   were   doing?”   Grandmother   Lane   sounded   amused. “Actually,   Travel   is   twenty-second   in   descent   from   you.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   seems   strange   to   think   about,”   ruminated   Wayham,   shaking   his   head. “I   saw   the   years   pass   like   ghosts,   and   the   people   walking   on   the   Riverton   bridge,   but   still,   to   think   that   twenty   generations   have   walked   and   died   before   me—queer,   it   feels. Very   queer.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Do   you   remember   your   father   at   all?”   Grandmother   Lane   said   curiously. “Your   writings   never   mention   him.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Curious.”   mused   Wayham. “I   must   have   had   one,   I   suppose…but   I   can   never   remember   him,   only   my   mother,   and   she   died   when I   was   young,   so   who   she   was   I   do   not   know. I   do   remember   one   thing   she   said   of   him:   He   is   the   oldest   man   alive.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “As   it   is   difficult   to   gather   records   of   octogenarians   in   pre-settlement   New   England,”   Grandmother   Lane   said   dryly,   “it   seems   that   question   can   never   be   answered. Who   raised   you?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Wayham   shrugged. “Wolves,   perhaps.”   he   said. “I   was   a   child   when   she   died. I   wasn’t   welcome….I   remember   hard   faces,   calling me   witchbabe…the   fire….the   shaman   dancing   around   me….and   then   a   hawk,   bearing   me   away.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Wayfinder?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   may   be.”   Wayham   nodded. “I   wandered   in   the   wild. Birds   were   friendly,   for   some   reason;   they   came   to   me,   and   one   was   always   watching   me,   a   hawk   like   none   that   walk   today. It   was   the   size   of   an   eagle. It   had   very   powerful   eyes. Laughing   eyes. It   made   me   laugh   to   look   at   him. He   always   brought   me   food. One   time   wolves   came. The   hawk   moved   like   winged   lightning. Next   thing   I   knew   there   were   eight   dead   wolves,   and   the   hawk   was   skinning   one   with   it’s   talons. Those   pelts   became   my   wardrobe.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “I   built   shelters   in   the   woods. I   would   go   off   to   snare   or   rig   traps,   and   when   I   returned   something   had   transformed   the   rude   pile   of   sticks   into   a   secure   place,   always   snug   and   warm,   and   no   wild   creature   could   breach   it. I   talked   to   the   hawk. It   would   listen,   occasionally   crying   in   its’   strange   harsh   voice. Sometimes   it   soared   off   to   catch   something. I   loved   that   hawk. But   it   would   never   come   near   enough   to   touch. Maybe   it   feared   me. Or   maybe   it   pitied   me,   and   would   not   allow   me   to   feel   what   it   truly   was….”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   fell   silent,   musing,   and   ate   in   silence. Grandmother   Lane   left   him   alone.

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<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   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 class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   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 class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             These   words   seemed   to   be   echoing   through   and   through   the   mind   of   Forest   as   he   walked   down   the   aisle   in   the   forest   of   hemlocks. At   first   he   thought   the   close   green   foliage,   so   dark   as   to   seem   tarnished   against   the paler   green   of   the occasional   beech,   a   result   of   many   young   saplings   rising   rank   about   the   boles   of   their   fathers;   but   when   he   looked   closer   he   saw   that   the   huge   and   ancient   trees   were   actually   branching   from   their    roots   and   nowhere   else. Dead   stumps   of   branches   a   hundred   feet   up   to   the   crowns;   and   about   their   base,   a   great   tangle   of   saplings   sprouting   up   from   the   thick   exposed   roots.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   Road   calls   all   them   home,   as   the   trees   all   lose   their   shade… <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   avenue    wound   and   curved   along   the   flanks   of   the   unseen   mountain,   wandering   into   secret   dells   of   old   and   blooming   laurels   and   at   least   four   types   of   fern,   in   four   different   shades   of   green. Beams   of   light    were   flowing—not   shining—flowing   clear   and   limpid   through   the   saturated   air,   condensing   in   a   glowing   dew   that   crusted   leaf   and   bloom,   and   then   wreathing   clear   about   him,   as   palpable   as   unwet   mist,   a   thicker   sort   of   air.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             “Daslenga.”   he   said   aloud,   but   he   heard   no   sound   and   felt   no   movement   of   his   throat.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   avenue   turned   again,   and   high   grey   slopes   of   ancient   rock   streaked   black   and   reddish-green   with   stonemoss   rose   up   on   the   right,   overshadowed   by   the   drooping   boughs   of   other   pines   than   featherlock;   great   firs,   and   pale   larches   beginning   to   fade   yellow,   starred   brown   with   cones,   and   here   and   there   the   reddish   bark   of   their   boles. Shade   lay   dark   and   ragged   under   them,   casting   tattered   shadows   on   the   road   that   lay   beneath.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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";">             Forest   stood   upon   the   Road.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" 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   had   once   been   cobbled,   with   big   red   blocks   of   sandstone   set   on   edge,   like   foot-long   bricks. So   much   moss   and   washed-in   sediment   had   accumulated   on   them   now   that   only here   and   there,   like   old   bones,   could   be   seen   the   dull   red   of   an   exposed   cobble. It   was   perhaps   a   rod   wide;   had   been   wider,   perhaps,   once   in   fargone   days,   as   the   depression   in   the   land   to   either   side   showed,   but   no   tree   grew   on   it,   not   even   a   berry   bush   or   alder. The   forest   around   pressed   on   him,   seemed   to   bear   down   upon   him;   he   felt   as   if   a   tremendous   power   and   mystery   lay   couchant   in   the   earth   beneath   his   feet   and   the   stones   on   which   he   stood;   as   if   something   vast   and   terrible,   like   a   slumbering   creature   of   great   size,   lay   latent   before   him,   pent   with   potency    if   it   ever   awoke. It   wound   on   dim   before   him,   now   dark   under   the   weird   trees,   now   alight   with   the   drifting   limpidness   of   the   river he   could   never   see,   until   the   forest   hid   it,   and   his   dreaming   mind   walked   on.

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