Faerie Winter Part 8

"No. I don't believe we do." Elin stalked past us toward the river, head held high, feet bare. I thought Karin would run after her, but she only watched her go.

Snow blew into my face. "I could call her back."

Karin shook her head. "She makes her choices freely as well. I'll not decide them for her." She closed her eyes and rested her head on her hands, and I felt as if I were witnessing something terribly private.

I silently kept guard as Elin followed the river upstream, away from us. At last Karin looked up once more. "Come. Let us find Kyle." She tied her pack closed and pulled it onto her shoulders. "I fear there will be some climbing involved."

I set my staff down, put my gloves back in my pockets, and started to climb. Karin scanned the cliffs, then began climbing beside me. The icy stone was slippery beneath my fingers, and snow stung my face. Kyle's blood streaked the most obvious handholds. How long ago had he climbed? He'd have climbed more slowly than Karin and I. It should have been easy for Elin to knock him from these cliffs.

She should have caught up with him well before the cliffs. How had Kyle gotten so far?

From above, I heard a faint singsong voice. "The ants go marching seventy hundred by seventy hundred..."

I climbed faster. Karin and I were higher than the trees now. Karin made her way onto a narrow ledge, and I followed, inching sideways, listening. "The ants go marching seventy-one hundred by seventy-one hundred..."

A foot or so above the ledge, there was a narrow hole in the rock, too small for an adult to fit through. Karin stopped and peered into the dark. "Kyle?"

The singing stopped. "Go away!" "Go away!" Kyle cried. Kyle cried.

Of course he wouldn't trust a stranger, not now. Karin must have realized that, too, because she moved farther along the ledge, and I moved to the opening. "Kyle?"

Silence. My fingers felt numb against the rock. Then, "Liza?"

"It's all right, Kyle. You can come out now."

I heard cloth sc.r.a.ping stone. Kyle's boots emerged from the hole, and his legs scrambled down to the ledge as he grasped the rocks. Talons had torn the back of his coat, and blood seeped through. He clung to the stone as he turned to look at me, eyes wide, quia leaf still hanging from his neck. "Scared," he whispered.

"I know," I said. "Ready to climb down?"

Kyle nodded solemnly. He followed me along the ledge, and then we descended together. His scabbed-over hand began bleeding again, but he seemed to have full use of it. We jumped the last few inches to the ground. Kyle looked up at me, lower lip quivering. He was going to be all right.

He burst into sobs and threw himself at me.

My arms stiffened around him. For a wild moment I didn't know what to do. I stroked his tangled hair, as Mom had mine when I was little. Such a small thing-it hadn't seemed small when Mom had done it.

Karin jumped to the ground beside us. Kyle's sobs turned to s.h.i.+vers as he drew away from me. Karin nodded solemnly. "It is good to see you well, Kyle."

"Kyle, this is Karin. She-"

Kyle turned his back on her. His small body trembled. "I'm hungry," he said.

I offered him some dried meat, but he shook his head. Tears streaked his face. "Not hungry for that. that." He sat down in the snow.

I put the jerky back into my pocket; I had nothing else to offer him. This was no time to be a picky eater.

The snow fell harder. "We need to get him somewhere warm," I told Karin. "Maybe we can find shelter among the cliffs." A larger cave, nearer to the ground.

Karin nodded. The clouds were thick and dark, the day more than half done. I put my gloves back on. "Ready to walk?" I asked Kyle. His bleeding hand was already scabbing over again.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "No."

"We have to walk, Kyle. There's no other way. I'm sorry."

Kyle looked up defiantly. "Carry me."

Carrying him would slow us down. I was tired and my ankle hurt and I didn't feel much like walking myself-I drew a deep breath. "Would piggyback do?"

Kyle sniffed and nodded. I bent down, and he climbed onto my back, wrapping his arms and legs around me so tightly they hurt. I grabbed my stick from the ground for balance as I stood and started walking, Karin by my side.

I glanced back just in time to see Kyle stick his tongue out at her.

"Kyle!" I gave Karin an apologetic look as he buried his head against my shoulder.

"It is all right. He has little reason to trust me, and reason enough for fear, given what he's seen of my people." Karin smiled sadly. "Fear can be a sort of protection, too. Allow him to trust his instincts. He'll work this out for himself, given time. As, I believe, did you."

I looked away, ashamed of how little I'd trusted her and Caleb when we'd first met.

"She's mean," Kyle whispered into my hair.

Karin laughed at that, a lighter sound. "I am a teacher. I'm accustomed to being told I am mean."

The wind picked up. I rubbed Kyle's bare hands with my gloved ones. He sniffled, and snot dripped down into my scarf. The snow took on an icy edge. I saw gaps among the stones, but none were large enough to shelter us.

Karin pointed ahead. I squinted-there. A dull sheen of metal in the distance. As we drew closer, I saw that it was an old truck from Before. The truck's nose was half-buried in the dirt, past the front wheels, as if the earth had tried to swallow it whole during the War. The trailer was still good, though, the rust beneath the faded orange and white paint only beginning to break through the metal.

Kyle clung to me as Karin and I pushed the trailer door up. It creaked, and the oily old-car smell that made me think of Before wafted out. There were no wild animals living inside, just an empty metal sh.e.l.l about as tall as I was. A torn-up couch stood against one wall, its cus.h.i.+ons gone. A few small, rusted cans were piled in one corner, and the words on them were from Before, too: Pepsi, Coca-Cola, Red Bull Pepsi, Coca-Cola, Red Bull. A hole in one corner of the ceiling let the cold in, and bird droppings streaked the wall beneath it.

I carried Kyle inside, and Karin closed the door behind us. "When you can, Liza, we need to look at his back."

I nodded. Like all raptors since the War, hawks had poison in their talons. At least, real hawks did; I didn't know about a hawk that had started as a girl. I got Kyle onto the couch. He crawled into my lap, clinging still. Karin drew a pair of stones from her pack, the smaller of which glowed with orange light. She tapped the small stone against the larger one, and the larger one began to glow as well. Kyle's eyes widened. He reached for the light, then pulled away and gave Karin a suspicious look. Karin set the larger stone down on the arm of the couch. Its light was warm, taking the edge off the cold around us. We wouldn't have to waste time coaxing a fire from wet wood. Karin lit a second stone the same way. I remembered that there was a child in her town who could bring light to stones, too.

I unb.u.t.toned Kyle's coat. "Let's take this off."

"No."

"Please, Kyle."

Kyle bit his lip and looked up at me. "Will it hurt?"

"It might." I couldn't lie to him. I didn't want to-I'd always hated when adults said that things wouldn't hurt when they would. I searched for words that would help him, thought of the time Mom had pulled a dozen dandelion thorns from my arm, one by one. "You'll have to be very brave," I told Kyle, remembering what Mom had said then. Her words had surprised me; more often Mom told me it was okay not to be brave, but the thorns had had to come out. "Can you do that, Kyle?"

He gave me a suspicious look, then nodded. Mom had given me some of Jayce's whisky before she'd begun work, but I didn't tell Kyle that. He winced as I eased off his jacket and the clotted blood beneath it tore away. "You are are brave," I said. brave," I said.

There was more blood on his sweater-Kyle screamed when I pulled it and his unders.h.i.+rt off. He fled my arms to huddle in a corner.

I followed him. "I'm sorry. But you have to let me look at your back. It will hurt worse later if you don't."

"Hurts worse now," Kyle whimpered.

"I know." I reached out my hand, and he took it. Somehow I got him back to the couch and lying on his stomach. His back was a mess of puffy red gashes and dried blood. Even if there was no poison, the wounds were clearly infected.

"Cold," he muttered as I stroked his hair.

His skin didn't feel cold. It felt fever hot. Karin moved, frowning, to my side. "Kaylen would make quick work of such injuries." She handed me a water skin from her pack. "Clean it as best you can. I'm no healer, but I know something of the healing that plants can do. I'll see what I can find."

Karin raised the door and slid outside, taking her pack with her. The world beyond the trailer had become a blur of blowing white. Was Matthew out in that storm, or had he found shelter, too? I wished he were here. We were supposed to be together for all the hard things. The door creaked as Karin pulled it shut behind her. I hoped Matthew had run far, far from Clayburn and the Lady's reach. Maybe he'd gone to get Caleb and help for Ethan after all.

Kyle sat up. Caleb's quia leaf dangled against his bare chest. I took the frog from my pocket and handed it to him. Kyle grabbed the toy and lifted his head proudly. "I left it on purpose, so you and Johnny could find me." His face scrunched into a frown. "Where's Johnny?"

I swallowed hard.

"Find him." Kyle stumbled to his feet.

I grabbed his arm. "Later. First you have to get well, then we have to wait for the snow to stop. Then we'll look for Johnny."

Kyle clutched the frog close. "Promise?"

"Promise. But you have to let me get you cleaned up so you can heal, all right?"

Kyle didn't fight me as I drew him back to the couch. I tore strips from my ruined sweater sleeves and wet them to clean his back as well as I could. Kyle cried and kicked the couch, but he didn't try to get up again.

"Sorry," I said, over and over, but I couldn't tell whether he heard. I washed his scabbed-over palm as well, and cut Elin's wool bandage to wrap it around his hand.

By the time I was through, I wasn't sure whether to wish I had healing magic or to be grateful I didn't. How did Caleb and Allie find it in them to treat pain, time and again, without falling apart utterly?

When Karin returned, her hair and shoulders dusted with snow, I had Kyle wrapped in my coat and sitting up. Tears leaked out the corners of his eyes, more quietly now. "Johnny later," he whispered to the frog.

The leaves around Karin's wrist had curled in on themselves, as if against the cold. She drew dead plants from her pack, all familiar: willow bark for fever, birch bark and brown moss for drawing the infection out. If gathered while green, mosses could burn skin instead of healing it, but there was little risk of that this winter. The grasping branches of willows held dangers, too, but I suspected that Karin could manage those in any season. Plants listened when Karin spoke to them, in a deeper way than the simple calling or pus.h.i.+ng away of my own magic.

I got Kyle out of my coat and lying down again so that Karin could pack the moss into place. He clutched his frog so tightly his fingers turned white, whether because Karin's touch hurt or because he was still scared of her, I couldn't tell. Karin laid birch bark over the moss and used bandages from her pack to tie it all in place. I helped her pull Kyle's bloodied sweater on backwards over the bandages.

Karin ground the willow bark between a couple of rocks she'd brought in with the plants. I rummaged through the cans, found a Pepsi one without rust, and poured water through the small opening. A sweet scent wafted out, like a memory of spring. Karin sprinkled the ground bark into the liquid. "The stones aren't hot enough to boil water," she said. "He'll have to drink it cold."

Kyle gave me a skeptical look when I handed him the can, and curled in on himself. I couldn't blame him; few small children accepted willow bark without fuss. "You drink it," he said.

I didn't like willow bark any more than Kyle, even now. "How about if I go first?" I brought the can to my lips and took a swallow, then immediately regretted it. Willow bark tea was bad enough-I scrunched my face with the effort not to spit the cold bitter liquid up again.

Kyle burst out laughing. "Silly Liza!"

I held the can out to him as bitterness flowed down my throat. "Your turn." Kyle grabbed the can and took a large gulp. He began coughing, spitting up liquid, but at least some of the medicine seemed to make it down his throat.

Karin pulled something else out of her bag: a thin silver blanket that crinkled like plastic as she wrapped it around Kyle. He stopped coughing to grab a handful of the strangely metallic fabric.

"The material is warmer than it appears, though I do not fully understand why," Karin said. "It was crafted by your people, not mine." She got Kyle lying on his side and drew the quia leaf from his neck. Kyle didn't seem to notice. He kept crinkling the blanket, more sleepily now.

"I doubt Tara even knew what my brother gave her." Karin handed the leaf to me. "He told me he lost it during the War. I suppose in a sense he did. Keep it safe, Liza."

I'd rather Kyle wore it, but the concern in Karin's eyes stopped me from saying so. It will protect you in dark forests It will protect you in dark forests. "What is it?" Why was the Lady so eager to get it back?

Karin tucked one of the warm stones beneath Kyle's blanket. "It is...a piece of our souls, you might say, though that is a human way of phrasing it. Better to say a piece of who we are lies in Faerie, bound into the First Tree, and this is the token of it. The leaf provides some protection, but carries some risk as well, for to harm the leaf is to harm its owner."

The silver felt warm in my hand. "Caleb's life is tied to this?"

"Indeed. He must have cared for your mother more deeply than I understood, to entrust her with it. I never trusted any of my consorts so, not through many long years."

Yet Karin had parted with her leaf, too. It was in the Wall that protected her town-I'd seen that in my visions. How had the woman who'd once spoken so easily of binding humans become someone who'd risk her life and soul to protect a human town?

I slipped Caleb's chain over my head and tucked the leaf beneath my sweater. Would I part with it again, knowing that Caleb's life was linked to it? I sat beside Kyle on the edge of the couch. Kyle let go of the blanket and grabbed my hand. "Stay," he said.

Beyond the small hole in the ceiling, blowing snow hid the sky. "I'm not going anywhere." I pulled on my coat and rolled onto the couch beside Kyle. He snuggled up against me, blanket crinkling.

"Look after him," Karin said softly. "I will listen and keep watch."

"I can help," I said. "Just as soon as-"

Karin touched my shoulder. "You are helping. Hold to your task, and I will hold to mine."

I wrapped my arms around Kyle, warming him, wondering how he could trust me so readily. "You know what?" I whispered to him.

"What?" Kyle's voice was sleepy and slow.

"You're not just brave. You're also a fast runner, to escape from that hawk."

Kyle giggled. "Not fast, Liza. I'm too little to run fast. But I'm a good yeller. I yelled yelled the bird away!" the bird away!"

Before I could ask what he meant by that, he was asleep.

Kyle slept in fits and starts. I woke when he did, so slept in short s.n.a.t.c.hes, never long enough to dream. Sometimes Kyle woke screaming, sometimes crying. Once he called Johnny's name, telling him over and over that he was sorry about the ants. Another time he muttered, "No, no, no, no, no," until he drifted off again. I held him, told him he was safe for now, and thought about all the ways I'd make Elin suffer for this if I ever saw her again.

Eventually the light outside faded. Much later, Kyle's fever broke and he fell into a deeper sleep. I brushed his sweaty hair from his forehead. My chest felt strange and tight. I'd known Kyle all his life, but I'd never thought much about him before. Now I felt as if I'd do anything to protect him. That scared me-I knew well enough how little I could do to keep him safe.

When I felt myself slipping into deeper sleep, I gently pulled away from Kyle and stood, my head brus.h.i.+ng the trailer's rusty ceiling. I didn't want to wake him with one of my nightmares.

Karin sat cross-legged by the door, the other orange stone beside her-its light was lasting a lot longer than the ones from Seth's little sister did. Karin had unb.u.t.toned her jacket, and I glimpsed another knife sheathed inside. She'd not carried any weapons I could see when last we'd met, but the trees had been awake then, and she'd had the entire forest at her command. Her shoulders were stiff, her expression watchful. I heard a faint pattering against the roof. Ice.

"I fear we will be here some time." Karin offered me her water skin as I sat beside her. I drank, grateful for the cold water against my dry lips and throat.

"Kyle isn't ready to travel yet anyway." My stomach was grumbling again. I drew a strip of jerky-the meat Kyle had refused-from my pocket and split it with Karin. She offered me a handful of dried fruit in turn. "Blueberries," she said at my puzzled look.

That was what I'd thought; I wouldn't have hesitated otherwise. The berries should have burned my skin, but apparently they were quite dead. I set one hesitantly on my tongue, and tart sweetness flooded my mouth. Karin was the only person I knew who could harvest fruit safely. I stowed the rest of the berries in my coat pocket, though I could easily have eaten them all. Maybe Kyle would like them better than dried meat. "Karin, do you think the Lady is looking for us?"

"The storm that stops us will stop her as well, for a time," Karin said.

"What about after the storm?" I kept my voice low so as not to wake Kyle.

Karin stared into the dimness. "No. I don't think she'll look for us. I think she'll look for your mother."