Then far off, up a slope to my right, I hear it. Thump. My eyes fly open and I smile. I dart off to my right, following the sound, bounding over fallen trees. I know where he is. There’s another thump. He’s testing the trees, giving them a hit with the butt end of the axe, to ascertain the health of it. Such a waste of time to fell a tree and find it’s hollow or the upper half is rotting. Eric is careful with that. He must be looking for ridgepoles for new houses.
I cover the distance in just a minute, maybe less. When I jump out in front of him, he’s about to swing his axe gently with one hand, and he’s surprised enough to see me that he fumbles the axe, hits the pine tree off center, causing the axe to fall to the ground. His blue eyes fly open at the sight of me and his whole body goes rigid in fear for a second before he sees it’s just me.
“Holy crap, Birdie!” he exclaims. Birdie is my real name, as far as I know, but Eric is the absolute only person allowed to call me Birdie. Eric blows out a big breath, shaking his head. “Don’t do that! I’m going to have a heart attack one of these days!” He reaches for the axe.
Eric is tall and strong. Over the years, his arms have grown very thick, like the trees he cuts down. Ever since Lucia died, he’s grown a beard. It’s not very long, but it’s bushy. I trim it when he lets me. His hair is very dark and longer than I would like. It goes down to his shoulders. People that see him now wouldn’t recognize the Eric that I first met. He was a lot weaker then and much more fragile. Now I think he’s the strongest person I’ve ever known. I don’t think there’s anything that Eric can’t do if he wants to do it. But like all the older ones, he’s haunted. There are days when his eyes go blank as if a terrible veil dropped over them. I can tell he’s remembering people he’s lost. He’s lost inside himself, in his pain, in his past. Those are the days I leave him alone.
“You have to come back,” I tell him.
Eric loses him smile. “What is it?”
“Randal is back and he needs to see you.” I give him a serious look. “Something’s wrong.”
Eric’s smile collapses into a frown.
“Okay,” he says, swinging his axe to his shoulder. “Run back and let everyone know I’ll talk with him in the Lodge.” The Lodge is what we call our biggest house. We built it for gatherings. Eric steps forward. “Have you got it?”
I pull out my knife and show it to him.
“Is it sharp?”
I nod.
“Good,” Eric says. “Be careful, Birdie.”
I just nod and turn away. As I run through the forest, I hear Eric following behind at a trot. I can’t really explain it, but just by the way he sounds moving through the forest, I can feel him thinking. Eric is always thinking. He thinks more than anyone I know.
But there’s no time for thinking about that. I need to focus. Running through a forest is no simple thing. It requires concentration and reflexes sharp as a razor. I duck under a fir bough and then turn around a white birch before I bound up to the path. It’s way easier now. I don’t have to worry about hitting a stone, maybe turning my ankle. That happened to me once before, and it’s no picnic. I’m running as fast as I can now, although as it turns downhill, I miscalculate and have to readjust, my arms flailing. I hit the ground hard enough to jar my poor bones to slow down. Running downhill is the pits. I burst out of the forest and to level ground and speed up approaching the Village.
When I reach the Village, people are gathered. Everyone is talking and shouting at once. When they see me, they all go quiet. I hold up my hand while I catch my breath. “The Lodge,” I tell them finally. Only Artemis stays, with her hand on my shoulder. “You all right?” she asks.
I nod quickly and shrug her hand off my shoulder. I don’t like to be touched.
Artemis knows me well enough not to be offended. She’s practically my best friend. “What’s happening?” she asks. I shrug. “You don’t know anything?” She looks at me doubtfully. “Well,” she continues, “we’ll know soon enough, I guess.”
She stands there, waiting, and I realize that she’s waiting for me to come with her. I take a deep breath and then another. I feel happy that she’s waiting, but at the same time, it annoys me. I don’t like when people expect me to do things. But Artemis waits because she likes me and I appreciate that. I don’t have many friends, not really. It worries Eric, I can tell, but there’s no reason to worry. I’m just not much of a people person.
But I do appreciate Artemis. Her real name is Patty. You can see why she’d want to change that. Who’s scared of Patty? She got her new name out of a book from the second floor of the farmhouse. Eric calls it the library. Once it was the name of a goddess, a goddess of hunting, she explained, really good with a bow. The ironic thing is Artemis can’t use a bow. She tried to learn, but she couldn’t. Her arms would shake so much, the arrow would go flying in the wrong direction. She’s always been better at cooking and chatting. Also, unlike the goddess of hunting, she doesn’t really like to go out into the forest. She just likes to think she does.
Artemis crosses her arms over her breasts while she waits for me. She has much bigger breasts than I do. Not that that’s difficult, I’m like a beanpole, but it’s weird. I mean just a few years ago, we weren’t that different, and now she’s like, I don’t know, a woman, and I haven’t changed. If anything, I’ve become more wiry. I’m all bone and muscle. I don’t mind though. I know it sounds like I do, but I don’t. You should see all the trouble those breasts cause her. Sometimes I think Artemis and I are like opposites: she’s white with blonde hair and everyone likes her. I’m skinny and my hair is like steel wool, my eyes are brown as dirt, and not many people pay me much attention. She smells like candy and I, well, I just stink. Artemis steps forward and puts her hand on my shoulder. “Come on, Kestrel,” she says. “Rest inside.” She takes her hand and ruffles my hair.
That’s the one thing I really hate. Everyone wants to touch my hair.
“Quit it,” I tell her, jerking my head away. Artemis laughs. She likes to tease me.
Just then Randal comes around the corner. He’s about ready to go into the Lodge, but he sees us. Both Artemis and I stop and look at him and he looks back. It’s like he’s not the same guy we knew. He looks worried. He looks sad. He’s full of feelings I’ve never seen in him before. Randal doesn’t even try to smile at us. This is really weird because Randal likes to flirt and Artemis thinks he likes her. He just turns away and follows people inside.
“Shit,” Artemis whispers to me. “That isn’t good.” No, it’s not, I think. But I don’t say anything. We walk inside and take the first seats we can, in the back.
As we settle into our seats on the wooden benches, I have a strong feeling. It’s like today was the last day of something. Right up until now my life had been one thing and it’s about to be something else. I feel afraid. I feel sad. Life is pretty good here. I mean, it’s boring sometimes, but we’re safe, we’re together. I have a terrible feeling it’s all over, and I wish Eric was beside me. I wish I could make it stop. I don’t want this to end.
But in my heart I know it has. It’s gone already.
6
There are three rows of benches in the Lodge that face each other across a wooden stage. On the stage is a table and four chairs. Sitting at the table is Randal. When Eric comes in, everyone stands, their clothes rustling like anxious whispers. Eric hates when people do this. He puts his head down and walks to the table while everyone watches, and then Eric shakes Randal’s hand. Eric looks over us all.