Reaching for the knife at her belt, she realized she wasn't armed except with a sewing needle. She hadn't expected to need to defend herself on the roof of her own home. But even if she'd had her knife, she was skilled with chopping up herbs, not fighting multiple spirits.
"Go away!" she yelled. "Leave us alone!"
Stupid, she told herself. Damn his pride. She should have known better. But lately, he'd been trying so hard to be a better husband, and the kids hated it when they fought. . . .
One of the branches bowed only a few feet in front of her. A tree spirit clung to it. The spirit leered at her. It was in the shape of a monkey with pale green fur, but it had a child's face.
She filled her lungs and shouted, "Help! Someone, help!"
But no one was going to come. No one could come. There wasn't anyone close enough, and even if there had been, they'd run in the opposite direction to save their own skin. She wouldn't even blame them. Better one die than many, as the saying went.
Below her, she heard the door rattle. Looking down, she saw a larger spirit-a tree spirit with long arms like sticks and hair of grass, shaking the door. "No! Stay out!" She lunged forward toward the lip of the roof, and the monkeylike spirit dropped in front of her.
She froze.
Cackling, the spirit dragged its nails along her skin, lightly without breaking the flesh. She couldn't make her voice work. Her throat felt clogged. Stop! she wanted to scream, throwing the thought out of her as if it were a shout.
The spirit frowned and withdrew an inch, its nails hovering just above the surface of her flesh. Below, the rattling ceased.
Horror squeezed her heart. They had heard her.
She wanted to draw back the thought. She licked her lips. "I didn't . . . You couldn't . . . I'm not . . ." Oh, what have I done? She knew full well how it worked: use your power, and more will come. Use your power again, and even more will follow. And then more and more, until at last they number more than you can control. And then they kill all they find. It had happened to her mother. Hidden beneath the floor of her childhood home, Naelin had been the sole survivor. She'd heard it all: her mother trying to stop them, to defend herself, to protect them all. She'd heard her father die, and her brother and sisters. She'd been the only one to make it to the hiding place, and she'd stayed there long after the spirits had gone.
No one had come to help. No one had come to see if anyone was left alive.
She'd buried what remained of her family alone, and she'd locked the house behind her. She'd been nine years old, the same age as Erian was now. She'd had a little brother the same age as Llor was: six, and she'd had twin baby sisters.
She'd sworn to never make the same mistake that her mother had made. Never let the spirits hear her. Never give them reason to notice her family. Stay silent, stay secret, and stay safe. It had kept them well for all these years. But now . . . There had to be another way to repel them.
The monkeylike tree spirit watched her as she leaned forward to see down her family's tree. Around the base, three earth spirits circled the roots and sniffed at the bark. She looked up and saw more eyes in the trees.
There is no other way, she thought dully. They will kill you now, or you will stop them now and they will kill you later. That is the choice. What do you choose? She stared into the empty, emotionless eyes of the monkeylike tree spirit. The forest was silent. No birds. No wind. It felt as if everything were holding its breath-as if the spirits were waiting for her to choose.
Naelin felt tears on her cheeks. She took a deep breath and focused all her fear, all her determination, all her love for her children into words that she forced silently outward into the forest:
You will not hurt us.
You will leave.
She felt the words exit her like arrows from a bow, and her hands flew over her mouth, as if she were keeping the rest of her inside, as her lungs and heart and stomach wanted to follow the words into the air. Her head began to pound, but she repeated the thought, stronger and louder: You will not hurt us!
You will LEAVE!
With cries and calls, the spirits fled. The branches shook, leaves quivered as they leapt and soared and vanished in between the trees. The scent of forest receded, and the pressure inside her head lessened. She sagged backward against the curve of the trunk.
She'd done it.
She should feel triumphant, but she didn't. Closing her eyes, she pictured again her parents and siblings in the moments before the spirits attacked, heard the sounds as her mother was overwhelmed, heard the delighted shrieks of the spirits as they tore Naelin's world apart. Rocking forward, Naelin buried her face in her hands. "What have I done?"