The Stolen Child(76)

staring as if she knew my whole story.

A cool rain was falling, and I was late to meet Tess. Her class had ended hours before, and we

should have been on our way back home. As I rushed down the stairs, I wondered if she would be

furious with me, but such anxi-eties were nothing compared to my anger toward McInnes. Beneath the

streetlight on the corner stood Tess, huddling under an umbrella against the rain. She walked to me,

gathered me under its cover, and latched on to my arm.

"Henry, are you all right? You're shaking, baby. Are you cold? Henry, Henry?"

She pulled me closer, warmed us and kept us dry. She pressed her warm hands against my face,

and I knew that cold, wet night was my best chance to confess. Beneath the umbrella, I told her I loved

her. That was all I could say.

• C H A P T E R 2 4 •

We lived in the dark hole, and the abandoned mine on the hillside proved to be a very bad home

indeed. That first winter, I went into a deeper hibernation than ever before, waking only every few days

to eat or drink a few mouthfuls, then back to bed. Most of the others dwelt in the narcoleptic state, a

haze that lasted from December through March. The darkness enfolded us in its moist embrace, and for

many weeks not a peep of sun reached us. Snowfalls almost sealed us in, but the porous entrance

allowed the cold to penetrate. The walls wept and froze into slick crusts that shattered under pressure.

In the springtime we slipped into the green world, hungry and thin. In the unfamiliar territory,

looking for food became a daily preoccupation. The hillside itself was all slag and shale, and even in high

season, only the hardiest grasses and moss clung to a tenuous hold. No animals bothered to forage there.

Béka cautioned us not to roam too far, so we made do with what we could scavenge

nearby—grasshoppers and grubs, tea made out of bark, robin's breast, a roast skunk. We imagined all

we missed by not visiting town.

"I would give my eyetooth for a taste of ice cream," Smaolach said at the conclusion to a mean

supper. "Or a nice yellow banana."

"Raspberry jam," said Speck, "on warm, crunchy toast."

Onions chimed in: "Sauerkraut and pigs' feet."

"Spaghetti," Zanzara began, and Ragno finished, "with Parmesan."

"A Coke and a smoke." Luchóg patted his empty pouch.

"Why don't you let us go?" asked Chavisory. "It's been so long, Béka."

The gangly despot sat above us on a throne made from an empty dyna-mite crate. He had resisted

granting liberties every time we had asked, but perhaps he, too, was brightening as the days were on the

mend. "Onions, take Blomma and Kivi with you tonight, but be back before dawn. Stay off the roads

and take no chances." He smiled at his own benevolence. "And bring me back a bottle of beer."

The three girls rose as one and left without delay. Béka should have read the signs and felt the

coming change in his bones, but perhaps his thirst out-weighed his judgment. A cold snap rolled over the

western hills to meet the warm May air, and within hours a thick fog settled into the woods and clung to

the darkness like the skin of a peach. We could see no farther than one gi-ant step ahead, and the

invisible cloak stretched between the trees created a general sense of unease about our absent friends.

After the others crawled into the darkness to sleep, Luchóg kept me company at the mine's

entrance in a quiet vigil. "Don't worry, little treasure. While they cannot see, they cannot be seen. They'll

find a careful hiding place till the sun cuts through this gloom."

We watched and became one with nothing. In the dead of it, a crashing through the trees

awakened us. The noise rose in a single frantic wave. Branches snapped and broke, and an inhuman cry

resounded and was swiftly extin-guished. We peered into the mist, strained in the direction of the

commotion. Luchóg struck a match and lit the torch kept at the mine's entrance. The twigs sputtered in

the damp, caught hold, and burst into light. Emboldened by the fire, we stepped carefully toward the

memory of the noise and the faint scent of blood on the ground. Ahead through the mist, two eyes

mirrored <>ui torchlight, and their glowing halted our progress. A fox snapped its jaws and carried away

its prey, and we walked over to the killing spot. Fanned out like glass in a kaleidoscope,

black-and-white-banded feathers lay strewn on the fallen leaves. Struggling with the heavy turkey, the

fox bumbled off into the distance, and above us in the trees, the surviving birds huddled together,

churring a comfort to one another.

Onions, Kivi, and Blomma still had not returned when I showed Speck the place where the fox had