The Stolen Child(18)

Aniday. A wild child like myself, a girl named Speck, leans over to kiss my forehead, and her lips

cool my hot skin. Behind her, the oak leaves turn into a thousand crows that take off in unison, flying

away in a great twisting, singing tornado of wings. Silence returns after the drumming flock escapes to

the horizon and morning breaks through. I give chase to the birds, running so fast and so hard that my

skin splits a seam on both sides and my heart drums against my ribs until halted by the deathly

appearance of a roiling black river. Concentrating with my entire mind, I see to the other side, and there

on the bank, holding hands around a hole in the ground, are my father and mother, the woman in the red

coat, my two sisters, and the boy who is not me. They stand like stones, like trees, staring into the

clearing. If I summon courage to jump into the water, I may reach them. Blackwater once carried me

away, so I stand on the bank, calling out in a voice that cannot be heard, with words no one can

understand.

I don't know how long I was delirious with fever. Overnight, a day or two, a week, a year? Or

longer? When I awakened under a damp steely sky, I felt snug and safe, although my arms and legs

throbbed with stiffness and my insides felt scraped raw and hollow. Attending me, Ragno and Zanzara

played cards, using my belly as a table. Their game defied logic, for they had not managed to swipe a full

deck. Mixing remnants from many different packs, they ended up with nearly a hundred cards. Each of

them held a fistful, and the remainder sat in a jumble on my stomach.

"Do you have any cinque?" Ragno asked.

Zanzara scratched his head.

Holding up five fingers, Ragno shouted at him, "Cinque, cinque."

"Go fish."

And fish he would, turning over card after card until he found a match, which he would then hold up

triumphantly before ceding his turn to Zan-zara.

"You are a cheater, Ragno."

"And you are a bloodsucker."

I coughed, making my consciousness known.

"Hey look, kid, he's awake."

Zanzara put his clammy hand against my forehead. "Let me get you something to eat. A cup of tea,

maybe?"

"You been asleeping a long time, kid. That's what you get for going out with those boys. Those

Irish boys, they're no good."

I looked around the camp for my friends, but as usual at midday, every-one else was gone.

"What day is it?" I asked.

Zanzara flicked out his tongue, tasting the air. "I'd say Tuesday."

"No, I mean what day of the month."

"Kid, I'm not even sure what month it is."

Ragno interrupted. "Must be getting toward spring. The days are grow-ing longer, inch by inch."

"Did I miss Christmas?" I felt homesick for the first time in ages.

The boys shrugged their shoulders.

"Did I miss Santa Claus?"

"Who he?"

"How do I get out of here?"

Ragno pointed to a path obscured by two evergreens.

"How do I go home?"

Their eyes glazed over, and, holding hands, they turned around and skipped away. I felt like crying,

but the tears would not come. A fierce gale blew in from the west, pushing dark clouds across the sky.

Huddled under my blankets, I observed the changing day, alone with my troubles, until the others came

skittering home on the wind. They took no more notice of me than any other lump on the ground one

passes every day. Igel started a small fire by striking a flint until a spark caught the kindling. Two of the

girls, Kivi and Blomma, uncovered the nearly depleted pantry and dug out our meager fare, neatly

skinning a partially frozen squirrel with a few deft strokes of a very sharp knife. Speck crumbled dried

herbs into our old teapot and filled it with water drawn from a cistern. Chavisory toasted pine nuts on a

flat griddle. The boys who were not engaged in cooking took off their wet shoes and boots, exchanging

them for yesterday's gear, now dry and hard. All of this domestic routine proceeded without fuss and

with scant conversation; they had made a science of preparing for the night. As the squirrel cooked on a

spit, Smaolach came over to check on me, and was surprised to discover me awake and alert.

"Aniday, you've come back from the dead."

He reached for my hand, pulling me to my feet. We embraced, but he squeezed me so hard that my

sides ached. Arm around my shoulder, he led me to the fire, where some of the faeries greeted me with

expressions of wonder and relief. Béka gave me an apathetic sneer, and Igel shrugged at my hello and

continued waiting to be served, arms crossed at his chest. We set to the squir-rel and nuts, the meal

barely curbing the growling appetite of all assembled. After the first stringy bites, I pushed away my tin

plate. The firelight made everyone's face glow, and the grease on their lips made their smiles shine.