Bones of Faerie - Janni Lee Simner [41]
Still I carried the shadow to the fire. As I knelt by the flames it took shape, bits of gray resolving into misty legs that kicked at the air and misty fingers that flailed for something to grasp. Downy hair covered the shadow's head, not faerie pale now but cast in shades of gray. Dark eyes blinked up at me. The baby scrunched her face and began to cry again, even as her weight settled into my arms. Somehow I knew that no one else would feel that weight—their hands would pass right through her. This was my magic. It was my responsibility.
I rocked Rebecca in my arms. I could see right through her scrunched-up face to where my hand cradled her head. A warm breeze blew. I wrapped Rebecca in my jacket and shifted her to my shoulder. She was larger than I remembered but not by much.
“I can't heal this,” Allie said. “Caleb told me some things I couldn't heal, but I didn't understand. What do we do with her, Liza?”
“We'll take her to Mom,” I said, having no other answer.
Matthew nodded. Tallow sniffed his fingers suspiciously. If any wolf scent remained, though, she forgot it as soon as Matthew scratched her behind the ears. His hand moved slowly, and he stared at his fingers, as if getting used to being human again.
I gave him my spare clothes. The sweater strained across his shoulders, and the pants ended well above his ankles. His feet remained bare, because I didn't have extra boots.
Allie and I walked barefoot, too, our boots and socks tied to the pack to dry in the sun. I gave Allie the rain-cloak, which trailed behind her. Our clothes remained damp in spite of the fire, but we had no others left to wear. At least the sun was high. Our clothes would dry as we walked.
Silently I scattered the fire and threw dirt on the coals. Matthew tied the pack closed and swung it onto his back. Allie put Tallow on her shoulders. I took Rebecca, the one thing no one else could carry. We walked swiftly away, agreeing without words to put as much distance between ourselves and the river as we could.
After a time Rebecca's sobs subsided and she seemed to sleep, with her cold cheek pressed against my shoulder. If not for that cold, I could almost have forgotten she wasn't alive. I ran a finger along the back of her head. Her soft shadow hair was cool as wool beneath frost.
We walked through the rest of the day and into dusk. When the sky grew too dim we camped in the road, away from the trees to either side. I piled dirt under my jacket before I laid Rebecca down. Her feet kicked the air as she slept on. Tallow batted at her ankles, drew back as if at cold water, and stalked off to follow Matthew as he scavenged wood from the roadside.
“Your hands.” Allie said sharply.
I looked down. The green river creature had left no mark, but my palms were torn and red where I'd dug my fingernails in. Allie took my hands in her own, running her fingers over the gashes. Silver light shimmered on my palms, then sank beneath the skin, taking the redness with it and leaving a faint chill behind.
“With all you can do,” the girl said, “you could at least take care of yourself.”
Rebecca slept through dinner that night, and through Matthew's watch as well. The moon was high and my own watch nearly through when she woke and started crying again. I took her in my arms and rocked her, ignoring the cold I felt. I sang songs Mom had sung to me when I was small.
“Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee,
All through the night…”
Allie stirred, cast her blankets aside, and padded over to us. “She cries so much,” the girl said.
My singing trailed to silence. I couldn't remember all the words. Rebecca fidgeted in my arms. “That's what babies do.”
Allie knelt and tossed pieces of dead grass into the fire. I'd been planning to make rope from them. “She's crying because she doesn't want to be dead.”
Rebecca gripped my thumb and fell silent. Her hold was surprisingly strong. I saw my own finger through her fist.
“I'm a healer,” Allie said stiffly. Her eyes were on the flames, not me. “I've seen people die. Caleb says you have to know when to let go and