Can’t…climb.” He groaned as he shifted himself. “These walls—too slippery.
Aaagh.
And my leg…”
She braced her feet in the tangle of roots and pushed hard against the trunk. Her shoulder flattened, and her legs shook with strain. She knew she couldn’t push over such a big tree. But mayhaps she could tilt it some—enough that he could crawl out.
With all her strength, she heaved. But the tree just wouldn’t budge.
“Ohhh,” moaned the muffled voice. “It hurts, Anna. Hurts bad.”
“What, your leg?”
“No, my belly! I’m hungrier…by the second. Can’t you at least…throw me some berries?”
She knew he was trying to make her laugh. But she could also hear the raw pain in his voice. “Forget about your belly for once!” She glared atthe knothole. “I’ll find some way to get you out, I promise.”
She licked her dry lips. But how? She couldn’t climb up the trunk herself. Besides, even if she could, what good would it do? And what about the ghouls?
Casting her eyes around the glade, she searched for something—anything—she could use. No luck! All she saw were leaves, branches, and shafts of fern. Then she spotted a thin purple vine curled around the limb of a sapling. An idea burst into her mind like a dolphin leaping into the air. Mayhaps…If she could just drop down a vine—one long enough to reach—he might be able to climb out.
Where, though, to find a vine that big? And sturdy? She slapped her forehead. The vines the master used for his nets!
From inside the trunk, her friend groaned again. Louder this time.
“I’ll be back, Sash,” she called. “Very soon.” She set down Eagle on the roots. “Stay here, now. Keep him company.”
She dashed back to the cottage, crashing through the bramble bushes that lined the shore.Breathing hard, she scanned the remains of the old nets that lay on the beach. But they were just tangled bits of vines. She needed one as long as a rope. Aye, like the ones the master—
She stiffened.
Like the ones he gathered from the forest.
She knew, from what he’d said, that he fetched them somewhere up the stream where Sash had caught the perch. How far upstream he went, she didn’t know—just that he followed the rill into the woods.
Deep into the woods.
She sucked in her breath. Ghouls or no ghouls, she would go!
Anna started running down the shore, to the deep-rutted spot where the stream emptied into the sea. At the edge of the bank, she turned into the forest. She ran beside the stream, her feet slapping on the mud, even as sharp branches tore at her arms and legs.
The forest grew steadily darker. And denser. Trees crowded closer to the bank—aye, with roots that gouged the ground like claws. Branches dripped with spray. Moss hung everywhere, wet and thick. So thick that sometimes she had to wade into the stream itself to get by. And crab claws, itwas cold! Icy water slapped her legs and tried to knock her down. Once her foot slipped on an underwater rock and she almost fell into the dark, dripping arms of the trees.
A sound! She stopped to listen as water swirled around her feet. High and wailing it came, thinner than a spider’s thread.
The sound grew louder, nearer, rising with the wind. Then more sounds joined in—shrieks, howls, and moans. Did all that come from the wind in the trees? Or from something else?
Anna shuddered and kept walking up the stream. Her toes felt numb from cold. But step by step, she pushed deeper into the forest.
At last she reached a bend where the bank lifted into a sheer wall of rock. Tiny rills poured down the cliff and splattered into the stream. Vines—long, twisted ones—grew there by the dozens, hanging like loose green hairs. This was what she’d been looking for.
She hesitated. What if the ghouls tried to stop her? Had they ever attacked the master when he’d come here for vines? She wished now that she’d thought to bring along his axe.
Cautiously, she waded over to the base of
Learning to Kill: Stories