The Ragwitch by Garth Nix Read Free Book Online Page A

to look for him. Still, from what Aleyne had hinted at, being with the Ragwitch wouldn’t be very nice at all—maybe even scarier than the forest…
    Paul slowly drifted off to sleep, one hand trailing over the side, occasionally brushing the water. Aleyne watched him, as he turned and mumbled about his sister Julia, and how life just wasn’t fair.
    When Paul awoke, it was early evening. The River Daughter was rocking gently, tied up against a jetty of old, greenish logs. Sitting up, Paul saw that the river was no longer narrow, but had widened into a majestic, slow-moving stretch of water at least a hundred meters wide. On either bank, open woodland sloped away from the river. To the west, yellow sunlight filtered down through the trees, the evening sun dipping down behind the upper parts of the wood. Paul watched sleepily as a bird flew up from the trees, crying plaintively as it rose higher into the greying sky.
    “Ornware’s Wood,” said Aleyne, who had been sitting on the wharf. “Not as old as the May Dancer’s forest, but much more pleasant. And the only creatures you should find here are hedge-pigs,deer, squirrels and suchlike.”
    “No kangaroos?” asked Paul, halfheartedly. From the sound of it, they were going to have to walk through this wood, and it was still much like the May Dancer’s forest, no matter what Aleyne said.
    “Kangaroos,” mused Aleyne (after Paul had described them). “No, I think there are none of those in Ornware’s Wood. But I have heard of animals like you describe, far to the south. Anyway, we must be going. There’s still an hour left of this half-light, and we will camp not too far away.”
    “O.K.,” replied Paul. “But where’s Ennan and Amos?”
    Aleyne looked at the empty boat for a second, then answered, “They’ve gone to pay their respects to a…man…who holds power over the next stretch of the river.”
    Paul wondered about Aleyne’s hesitation in describing the person the boatmen had gone to see. But Aleyne had already grabbed his pack, and the smaller one he’d made up for Paul—though it seemed heavy enough to its bearer.
    Half an hour later, it seemed even heavier, although the going was easy, and the wood pleasantly cool. Paul was glad when Aleyne finally stopped, and dropped his pack against a gnarled old oak. Paul thankfully followed suit, and sat down next to his temporarily eased burden.
    “We shall camp here,” said Aleyne. “There’s asmall stream beyond that clump of trees. It drains into the river, and its water is clear and fresh. This will do very well; and from here it is a little less than a day to the Ascendant’s Inn at the foot of Rhysamarn.”
    Paul looked glumly around the camp site. He didn’t like camping, particularly when there was no shower and toilet building nearby, nor a caravan in case it rained. Julia, of course, loved camping, though she normally didn’t get the chance if Paul had anything to do with it.
    “Where’s our tent?” he asked Aleyne, as the latter opened up his pack, and took out a small iron pot.
    “Tent?” replied Aleyne, holding up the pot to the setting sun to look inside. “I have no tent—nor indeed, a horse to carry such a heavy thing, all poles and cloth! I’ve a wool cloak, same as you’ll find in your pack. Good greasy wool will keep the weather out.”
    “Oh,” said Paul, who hated the feel of wool, and didn’t like the sound of “greasy” wool. “Do you think it will rain?”
    Aleyne cast an eye up at the darkening sky, and said, “No clouds up there tonight. It might be cold, but it won’t rain.”
    Paul looked up, noticing how dark the sky was becoming. Night seemed very close—and of a threatening blackness. Paul shivered, and hastily opened his pack to find the wool cloak. Aleyne smiled, and putting the pot aside, began to gathersticks from a dead branch that had fallen nearby.
    A few hours later Paul sat by the crackling fire, drinking soup that Aleyne had made in the pot,