The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making - Catherynne M. Valente [80]
“I cannot just choose to get out of a well, though.”
The Green Wind laughed. “No, no you can’t. But, September, my sparrow, my pigeon…I am still not allowed in Fairyland.”
“But you’re here!”
“Technically speaking, I am below Fairyland. It’s these little loopholes that make cheating so pleasurable. I mean to say I can push you up--oh, any Wind can with half a mind. But I can’t go with you. I can’t help you anymore. Until the great doors swing open, I cannot enter.”
The Green Wind bent his head and blew gently upon September’s mangled leg. September grimaced--it was rather a horrid feeling, being forcibly healed all at once, bones shoving together, muscles righting themselves. She groaned as the Leopard of Little Breezes lifted her head and licked roughly at the wounds on her arms until they vanished.
But still, September clung to the Green Wind, her safety, her protector. “I had to kill a fish,” she whispered finally, as though confessing a great sin.
“I forgive you,” the Green Wind said softly, and dissolved in her arms with one great final purr from the Leopard. In his place a whirlwind spun and spat, catching September up and pushing her into the air, up and out of the well.
It was night and the stars were going about their shimmering business in the sky. The Tsukumogami slept in their warm field. The last of the Green Wind dissipated in a rustle of dry grass.
“Goodbye,” said September quietly. “I wish you could stay.”
September crept along the field as silently as she could. The Spoon-mast of her little ship bobbed into view and she nearly whooped for joy, but caught herself in time--for the orange lantern floated expectantly next to the raft, her green tassel hanging still.
“Please don’t cry out,” whispered September. “You brought me food, I know you don’t think I’m wicked. Don’t give me away, please!”
The orange lantern glowed warmly, beaming reassurance. Golden writing looped and swooped over her face.
Take me with you.
“What? Why? Don’t you want to stay here? I’m only eleven, what am I to you?”
I’m only one hundred and eleven.
I wish to see the world. I am brave. I am strong.
They used to unpack me for festivals,
and I kept the night at bay.
When you get lost in dark places, I can show the way.
And you must admit, getting lost is likely,
and where one is lost, it is likely to be dark.
“I’m afraid I’m not much of a tour guide. I’m going to rescue my friends from the Lonely Gaol, and very terrible things will almost certainly happen.”
I will not disappoint you, I promise.
My name is Gleam. Take me with you.
I held you in the dark.
I defied straw sandals to bring you sunfruit.
I am worth something.
One hundred and eleven years is worth something.
September shrugged off her jacket and dress. She looked down at her shoes, the beautiful, shining, glittering black shoes. Slowly, she took them off, one by one and set them on the sand. September looked at them for a long time, shining blackly on the beach. Finally she picked them up and threw them, as hard and as far as she could, into the sea. They bobbed for a moment, then sank.
“There,” September said. “That’s better.” She smiled at the orange lantern. “Oh, Gleam, do you know? I forgot to tell the Leopard that I met her brother the Panther…”
September pushed her raft into the bouncing waves. Gleam followed quickly behind, lighting up the night like a tiny