Faerie Winter - Janni Lee Simner [24]
Matthew’s prints grew deeper, as if he’d stopped entirely. A second set of prints—adult-sized and barely breaking the snow—appeared, and wolf and human continued on together, while the child’s newer prints followed. Why hadn’t Matthew turned back? There was nothing he could do here, and he’d wasted time Ethan might not have.
In the distance, a child spoke softly. Around a bend, the path gave way to a churned-up mess of ash and bone and mud. Kyle knelt in the muck, talking to a bird perched on a child’s skull, a scrap of flesh dangling from its beak.
Johnny ran past me to kneel beside his brother. Kyle looked up at him, then turned back to the bird. A slick of the younger boy’s hair stuck up, because of course he’d forgotten his hat.
“He’s hungry.” Kyle’s face was smudged with mud and ash. “It’s not the bird’s fault that he’s hungry.”
“I know.” The gentleness in Johnny’s voice surprised me. “You ready to come home, kid?”
Kyle didn’t answer.
“You went after him,” I said to the older boy.
Johnny didn’t look away from his brother. “Somebody had to.”
A wind picked up, blowing ash toward us. The crow looked up from the skull, which was missing its two front teeth.
“Go away,” I commanded the bird. With an angry rustling of feathers, it flew to a high branch that hung over the path.
“He’s not happy.” Kyle wiped his face on his sleeve, smearing ash across his nose. He wasn’t wearing gloves, either.
I crouched by his other side. “Kyle, what are you doing here?”
“Running away,” he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Third time this month,” Johnny muttered. “And the farthest he’s managed to get yet.” He reached for Kyle’s hand, but Kyle stuck out his lower lip and shook his head. Could I use my magic to send him all the way home?
The crow cawed from its branch. “Look out!” Kyle yelled.
Johnny and I grabbed our knives as other crows answered from the trees all around us. Wing beats pounded the air as the birds attacked.
My blade grazed a black wing. A sharp claw scraped my cheek. “Go away!” I commanded.
“Go ’way, go ’way, go ’way!” Kyle echoed.
“Get down!” Johnny shouted at him.
My blade drew blood this time, and a crow dropped to the ground. The others whirled and took to the sky. I stepped back, panting, as the birds became black specks against gray clouds. How hungry did they have to be to attack us all at once?
“I told them.” Kyle lifted his chin.
I sheathed my knife. Just then I didn’t care who Kyle thought had sent the birds away, as long as they were gone.
Johnny grabbed his brother’s hand. “Time to go, kid. I mean it.”
Kyle shook his head. I wiped blood from my cheek and looked around, scanning the trees. If more crows lurked there, they blended with bark and branch as well as before. Sunlight forced its way through the clouds, reflecting off something shiny at my feet. A child’s silver bracelet, with dangling charms: a heart, a key, a cat. I reached for it.
The bracelet shone brighter, too bright for the gray afternoon. Silver light filled my sight and I saw—
A girl my age with long clear hair standing on the trail, where charred flesh yet clung to the bones around her. She gazed at a woman with hair just as clear bound up in a glimmering net. “I passed your test,” the girl said, but the woman frowned, disapproval clear in her silver eyes. “Tell me whether any escaped this time,” the woman said, “before you speak of success—”
Karin, looking up at the same woman, speaking the same words: “I passed your test.” Only they stood in a deep green forest, and the woman smiled in response. Karin lifted her chin, pride plain enough in her bright eyes—
An elbow jabbed my side, and Johnny hissed under his breath. My fingers closed around the bracelet as the visions fled. A girl stood in front of me, the clear-haired girl I’d just seen—the same girl who’d watched a town burn with Ethan by her side.
I hadn’t heard her coming, any more than I’d ever heard Johnny.
The girl’s green dress and cloak were dusted with ash. So were her battered