“I wasn’t… I mean, I didn’t…” Cassie wanted to weep. Months, wasted!
“Oh, my child, you have to know it is pointless. You cannot run from the forest when you are in the forest, any more than you can escape the sea from within the sea.”
“I wasn’t trying to escape,” Cassie lied. “I was confused, and then the trees began to move and I was scared. That’s why I ran.”
Father Forest tsked with his tongue. “Come, come, now…”
Dropping from the branches, the aspen landed on the soft needles. “It is my fault. She was hurrying to help me, and she went the wrong way.”
Cassie stared at her. The crazy aspen was unintentionally saving Cassie.
“Truly?” Father Forest said.
The tree-girl shrugged. Disgust colored her voice. “She’s a foolish child.”
Please believe it, Cassie thought at him. She said out loud, “She was upset. I wanted to hurry. I only wanted to help you. You’ve been like a real father to me.” She nearly choked on the words.
Lines eased on his face. He nodded. He knew how insistent the tree-girl could be, didn’t he? He could understand how it could make someone run, couldn’t he? Cassie did not breathe. “Forgive me, child, for doubting you,” he said. “Come back to the cottage.” Smiling at her, he looped his gnarled arm around her waist. She tried not to tense.
The tree-girl bristled. “But my aspens!”
He put his other arm around the aspen. “Come too. We can discuss it.” Arm around each of them, Father Forest propelled Cassie and the tree-girl forward through the rift in the wood wall that he’d created. Cassie glanced over her shoulder and saw the spruces slowly reverting to individual trees. She shivered. “Cold?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” Cassie said. “I’ll make her some tea to calm her.” As soon as she saw the cottage, she strode forward, breaking out of his circling arm, and walked down the singing stones. The stones chimed cheerfully at her. She entered the cottage, and the latch clicked shut behind her. She did not let herself look back.
Inside, the birches were gone. Stepping over their root stains, she carried the kettle to the sink. Hands shaking, she filled it with water. Her mind ran in circles. She had not known he could control trees from a distance. Outside his home, Bear hadn’t been able to affect molecules he wasn’t touching. But Sedna could, Cassie thought. The mermaid had saved Cassie without touching her, and Father Forest was an overseer like Sedna.
How would she ever escape if he had that kind of power? How could she run from the forest within the forest? What part of the forest was not forest? The kettle overflowed. Water poured down the drain.
“Cassie, the water?” Father Forest said, entering the cottage. “It is not an endless well.” Mechanically, she turned off the faucet. She stared at it without moving her hand.
Water was not part of the forest. She remembered: The rivers are not my region. Suddenly, she knew how to escape. She needed a river, a stream, a bog. Yes, a bog would be perfect. He could not watch the whole circumference at once. She could lose him in the middle and come out on an unexpected side. But how would she ever get to one? Father Forest would never let her outside again, much less near water. What excuse did she have to get near water?
The aspen let out a screech.
“Tea here, please,” Father Forest said.
Cassie put the kettle on the stove, and after a few minutes, it whistled. She poured the steaming water into his cup. She thought she sensed an idea forming as she poured. He needed water for his special tea.
She brought the cup to Father Forest for the aspen. Father Forest concentrated on the tea for a moment and then encouraged the aspen to drink. After a few sips, the tree-girl was calmer. Father Forest gave Cassie a grateful look. “Thank you.”
Cassie smiled sweetly.
The next morning, as soon as Father Forest secluded himself in the living room, Cassie completed her preparations. Checking over her shoulder to make sure she was alone, she shoved a wad of mud, sticks, and stones into the kitchen faucet. She jammed it farther in with the broom handle and then added more, mixing it so it was as thick as mortar. All the while, she listened for the telltale xylophone chime of the stones outside the cottage.
She was certain the tree-girl would return. She’d listened to Father Forest the day before. He’d only soothed her; he hadn’t solved her problem. The aspen would be back.
Cassie finished plugging the faucet, and then she straightened. Her stomach sank. “Whoa, kiddo, what’s going on in there?” She clasped her hands over her abdomen. It felt lower. What did that mean? Her heart thudded faster. She had time left, didn’t she?
She could not give birth here. No doctors, no nurses, no hospitals. No Max to airlift her to Fairbanks. Just Father Forest and his crazy trees. She closed her eyes; the world spun. Oh, God, not now. Not here.
She could not let this child be born here with Father Forest. It would grow up a prisoner. she couldn’t let that happen.
“Hellooo, little mother!” she heard.
“Work with me,” Cassie whispered to her stomach, and then she called through the shutter slats, “So sorry to hear about the spruces.”
Several octaves too high, the tree-girl squeaked, “Hear what?”
“Father Forest awarded the foothills of the Mackenzies to the spruces,” Cassie said. “He decided last night. Didn’t he tell you?”
As she’d hoped, her words were a match to kindling. The aspen exploded. Shrieking, the tree-girl slammed her stick body into the door. With a mighty crack, the cottage door burst open.
Father Forest ran into the kitchen.
The aspen was screeching loud enough to fell trees.
“Cassie, tea!” Father Forest shouted. “She’s hysterical!”
Cassie ran to the kettle. Conveniently (and intentionally), it was empty. She brought it to the sink. She glanced over her shoulder. With his back to her, Father Forest wrung his hands over the tree-girl. The aspen whirled around the room, scratching gashes into the wood walls and tearing at leaves. Cassie turned the sink handle. “Plumbing’s clogged!”
“Fix it!” Father Forest cried.
Cassie opened the cabinet under the sink. She squatted. She’d inserted the clog in the faucet to prevent drips, but the real problem with the plumbing was down here. She knew she could not fix it—not after all the trouble she had gone through to break it. This was one time when Father Forest’s dependence on man-made things instead of magic worked to her advantage. She patted the Spic and Span fondly. “Doesn’t look good,” she said out loud. Pulling herself up by the counter, she said, “I’ll try the bathroom.”
“Hurry!” She could barely hear him over the aspen. For a tree, she had quite a set of lungs. Ears ringing, Cassie waddled to the bathroom.
“No luck,” she called. “The well must be dry!” She returned to the kitchen.
He was near tears. “She needs tea!”
Cassie went for a pitcher on a shelf. Now here was the final step. She uttered a silent prayer. Heart beating in her throat, she said, “I could fetch some. Where’s a stream?”
“Quarter mile north.” He pointed. “Go!”
Cassie went.
The trees did not stop her.
CHAPTER 26
Latitude 63° 55’ 02” N
Longitude 125° 24’ 08” W
Altitude 1296 ft.
Cassie ran, soft steps on the needles. She clutched the pitcher to her chest. Her breath roared in her ears. She felt the baby kick as if running with her. “Hang in there,” she told it. “We’ll make it. Just hang in there.” Ligaments tugged as her stomach bounced.
She heard the stream gurgling like a drowning man.
She jumped over a root and landed on feather moss. Her feet slid, and she flailed for a branch. Catching one, she steadied herself before remembering it could be an enemy. She let go fast, and the branch snapped back.