The bread tasted like honey. It melted in her mouth. She devoured it in three mouthfuls. “This is wonderful.” Some of the leaves tasted like lettuce, some were tinged with mint, and others were nut flavored. “Thank you.”
He smiled fondly at her. “You are the wife of the bear. We take care of our own.”
She smiled. The owl had been right. She’d said that Cassie could rely on him. She had nothing more to worry about. Thanks to Sedna and Fluffy and the lemming and the aspen, she and Bear would be home soon. “How far is it to the castle?” she asked as she finished her food.
“Tea?” he asked. He patted a finger on the root. Cassie moved as a green shoot sprouted out of the bark beside her. It unfurled, and its tip swelled into a bulb. It fattened until it looked ready to burst. Green sides peeled away, and it opened like a tulip. From its base, color spread up it as it darkened from a light pink to a deep red. Delighted, she laughed out loud. How magical—just like something Bear would do. The forest munaqsri snapped the blossom at the base. The green shoot withered into dust. He fetched the kettle from the stove and poured tea into the flower. He handed it to her. The petals felt soft and warm. “You will like it,” he said, smiling. “It’s a special blend. Extra strong for you.”
Steam rose into her nose as she brought it to her lips. She took a sip. It tasted of herbs and pine. Immediately, she felt calmer. “Thank you again,” she said.
“I have prepared a bed for you,” he told her. “You need a good night’s sleep.”
Cassie shook herself. “No, no.” Her tongue felt thick. “So close.” She stood, and her knees felt suddenly weak. Father Forest took the tea out of her hands and set it on the root chair. Gently, he took her elbow and guided her to one of the doors. He said, “If you need anything, you have only to call out. The trees have ears, you know.”
Sitting in a corner, the tree-girl giggled—a shrill sound. It grated inside Cassie’s head like metal filings. She shook her head to clear it, and felt dizzy.
He led her through the door into a green room with a downy bed. She frowned at the bed. She did not want to sleep; she wanted Bear. “No, no sleep.” Her words slurred. It was hard to think. Dimly, she thought, It was the tea. But he was such a nice old man. “See Bear when wake?” She tried to look at him, but her eyelids felt as heavy as granite. She sank onto the bed.
He patted her arm. “Rest tonight, dear. Please, do not worry. It will be all right. You will see.”
On an impulse, she hugged the gnarled man.
“Yes, yes, dear,” he said. “You will see.”
CHAPTER 23
Latitude 63° 54’ 53” N
Longitude 125° 24’ 07” W
Altitude 1301 ft.
“Ow, ow, ow.” Cassie peeled the clothes from her skin—long johns plastered to her with dirt and dried sweat. It felt like pulling off a Band-Aid. She grimaced at herself. She had flecks of blood from a thousand scratches, and she was mottled with purple and yellow bruises. How lovely. She turned on the shower, and the water spilled through a crevice and then was funneled out between roots on the floor. She flinched as she ducked under the stream.
Mud dripped down Cassie’s legs, and the runoff turned a Mississippi brown. Father Forest had told her she would find fresh clothes in the bathroom closet, so she rinsed all her long johns and silkweights. Even considering the knockout tea, which (she had to admit) had provided much-needed sleep, he was proving to be a generous host. She felt like a hotel guest, or what she imagined a hotel guest would feel like—she’d never been one. Cassie sanded her skin with pine-scented soap. Wow, she had missed being clean! She scrubbed her hair. Grass clumps plopped onto the shower floor. She noticed one was seaweed.
She shook her hair and splattered the walls. Father Forest should be nominated for sainthood, she thought. She finally felt human again. First thing she would ask Bear to do when all this was over would be to resculpt the bathroom. She imagined herself and Bear rebuilding the castle side by side.
Glorying in her daydream and in the water, Cassie stretched. And she felt a fluttering in her stomach.
Her hands flew to her curved stomach. She felt the fluttering a second time. It was like wings inside her abdomen. Cassie grabbed the shower wall as her knees caved.
Oh, no. No, no. How could she have a baby? She huddled against the bark wall of the shower. Her hair stuck to her skin as water streamed over her. She wasn’t ready to be a mother!
She had so cleverly avoided thinking about it too much. But the baby wasn’t waiting for her to adjust to the idea. Every day, it marched closer to birth.
She forced herself to take a deep breath. She had to keep calm. Bear would help her. She wasn’t going to be alone. He’d know what to do with a baby—a munaqsri baby. Once she and Bear were together again, they could face this.
Cassie got to her feet and dried herself with a towel made of woven ferns. It fell apart on her skin. All she had to do was find Bear in time and it would all be fine. With Father Forest’s help, it would all be fine.
Cassie pulled the clothes out of the cabinet, and the clothes unfolded into a dress with a leaf green blouse and a shapeless bark brown skirt. Cotton underwear fell onto the floor. She stared at the dress. No one who was going to be trekking across a boreal forest wore a dress. Cassie searched the cabinet for other choices. She found only doll-like slippers. The slippers were worse than the dress—they would shred in the forest. What was Father Forest thinking?
Cassie glanced at her wet clothes, now hanging on a branch towel rack. She didn’t have much choice. If she didn’t want to be naked, she’d have to wear the dress. She put it on and scowled down at herself. “Ridiculous,” she said.
She pulled on her old mukluks and found Father Forest outside, waist-deep in ferns. He raised his head as she stepped on a singing stone. He beamed at her. “Sleep well?”
“Completely rested and ready to go,” she announced. “Thanks for the hospitality.” She decided not to say a word about the dress. It was probably all he had. His gnome pants would have been knickers on her. She shouldn’t be ungrateful after all he was doing for her and Bear.
He screwed up his face like a prune. “Not now!”
She’d felt the baby move; she didn’t want to wait another minute. “Why not?”
Father Forest waved at the yard of fronds. “The ferns are ready to seed.”
She was waiting for ferns? She had not crossed the entire Arctic to be delayed by ferns. “Bear is waiting for me,” she said.
“Ferns cannot wait,” he said.
Clenching her teeth, she reminded herself that he had fed and clothed her. A little yard work was a fair trade. “Fine,” she said through her teeth. “Let me help.”
He smiled with eyes crinkling like Santa Claus’s. Kneeling, he demonstrated how to pluck the seeds from the undersides of the ferns, scatter the seeds around the yard, and smooth pine needles over them. He acted like a child showing off a new toy. “Gravity and wind will do that, you know,” Cassie said.
“You are so innocent,” he said fondly. “It’s really charming.”
She scowled. “After the ferns, we go to Bear.” Bending over the ferns, she scraped the seeds with her short fingernails. She tossed them into open patches.
“Good, good,” he said, watching her.
It was as pointless as plucking autumn leaves. Cassie scraped and tossed, scraped and tossed, as fast as she could. Bear was waiting for her. She pictured him pacing in a cage while trolls prodded him and laughed. She hated the thought of him trapped and helpless. She scraped so fast that she shredded the tender leaves.