Birdie wandered through the barren peach orchard, the scent of ink coming off of her clothes and mingling with the crisp smell of winter.
The night was as black as coal, but the crescent moon allowed enough light for Birdie to see by.
She'd finished her work at the press, but couldn't bring herself to come home just yet.
Of course, she hadn't minded Wyatt and Evelyn staying with them, but the constant clamor and busyness of the house left little solitude to be had.
It was nearing midnight and Birdie could only imagine her mother's reaction to her haunting the orchards in the bleak hour. Birdie didn't mind, though. She liked to be awake while the world was sleeping. She liked the feeling of being a wraith against the moonlight, being known only to the stars and no one else.
The trees around her were spindly and sharp and, though she was surrounded by the gray tendrils, she felt safe. Unlike she did when she was surrounded by Gwydyr.
The peach trees were natural. Gwydyr was not.
Birdie thought of Wyatt and everything he'd been through. She wished that she could help him somehow.
It was terrifying, the way he handled things. He shed no tears, uttered no harsh words, displayed no emotion other than stormy silence.
It was the silence that drove Birdie mad. She had cried over the fire. Over Wyatt's prophesied death. Over Hal and Silas and Gwydyr.
She wished Wyatt would at least talk about it, then maybe they could figure out what to do instead of just ignoring it all and waiting until the next tragedy struck.
But Wyatt Best was different.
If he thought Birdie was confusing, it might be helpful for him to take a look in the mirror.
Some days, Birdie thought she had a certain understanding of him that perhaps no one else did. Other days, he was a stranger. Unknowable.
The word stuck in her mind.
Unknowable.
Sal Hickory had said the same thing of her during their last conversation.
"You're unknowable, Birdie Penny."
Maybe she did understand Wyatt a little bit.
She shivered as the cold finally seeped through her coat. She took one last look up at the sky, noted its billions of stars twinkling against its black canvas, and headed home.
She was careful when she opened the door, not wanting to wake anyone, and was creeping up the stairs when she noticed that Wyatt's light was still on.
She frowned. He was usually asleep by nine o'clock. What was he doing up so late? Unless something was wrong with Evelyn...
She hesitated, almost going to wake her mother for help, but figured she'd see what was the matter first.
She turned the knob without knocking because Evelyn was a terribly light sleeper.
Wyatt sat beside her bed, wearing only his blue pajama pants, his elbows resting on his knees with his head in his hands.
His fingers were tangled in his wild hair, making him look like a tragic Grecian statue. The scene was so entirely un-Wyatt-like that Birdie was frozen in place, unsure if she should back out or go in.
"You're being creepy," Wyatt said at last, not looking up.
"And you're burning the midnight oil," Birdie replied, heat creeping up her neck. She slipped into the room and closed the door behind her.
She sat at the foot of the bed, noting with relief the returning color to Evelyn's cheeks. The night she'd returned from the hospital, she was as gaunt as a ghoul. Now, she was looking more human.
"Is everything alright?" she asked. "You know, besides nothing?"
Wyatt gave her a rueful smile and reached over to grab the robe draped over the dresser beside the bed. "Everything's as well as it can be."
Though Birdie tried to avert her eyes as he pulled on the robe, she caught sight of the twisted scar that marred the front of his right shoulder.
Wyatt caught her stare and lifted his eyebrows. "Nowhere battle scars."
"I think you mean Gwydyr battle scars," Birdie said. Then added quietly, "I have them too."
Wyatt paused as he tied the straps together and looked up at her. "You do?"
Birdie looked down at her hands. She hadn't told anyone about the scars she'd received from Gwydyr. But somehow this moment felt different. Like she and Wyatt existed outside of time. So she pulled her shirt collar back to expose her shoulder.
Wyatt gaped at the lightning-bolt streaks that zigzagged across her pale skin.
He swore under his breath. "Is that from awakening the forest?"
Birdie nodded. "It goes all the way down my back. I tried to remedy it so there wouldn't be too much scarring, but now it looks like some spiffy road map. Does it make me look tough?"
"Makes you look brave."
They settled into a long silence, both looking on at Evelyn's sleeping form distractedly.
"Bernadette," Wyatt said. There was something heavy in his voice that made Birdie glance at him. She could tell there was a secret hidden in his tone as if he'd felt the otherworldliness of this moment as well.
"I...I found something." He pulled something small from his pocket and held it out to Birdie.
Birdie blinked and took the wooden shard. "A match?"
"I found it in Mother's hair that night."
Birdie squinted, then understanding dawned on her. She held the match away from her as if it were still on fire.
"You can't mean..."
"I don't know what I mean," Wyatt said. "But the fire wasn't electrical--I checked. All I know is that there was a fire, and there was a match."
Birdie shook her head. "She wouldn't have done it. She had no reason to."
Wyatt spread his hands apart. "I don't know. But that's the other thing...when I found her, she was in Hal's bedroom."
Birdie squinted at him, trying to make sense of it all. She said what he'd undoubtedly asked himself a hundred times. "Why would she be in his room?"
A voice answered, "Because of the drawings."
Birdie and Wyatt snapped their gazes to Evelyn, who was watching them with strangely sharp blue eyes. The bleariness from past days was gone and in its place, a keen awareness on the old woman's face.
Wyatt was the first to speak. "The drawings?"
"I knew it the moment I saw it..." Evelyn's chin quivered. Then, quietly, in an accent neither Birdie nor Wyatt had heard before, she murmured, "Gwydyr."
The name sounded ancient on her tongue as she said it.
Birdie was so still, the sleeve of her dress was the only thing that moved as her pulse beat against her wrist.
She looked to Wyatt, who leaned forward. "You know about Gwydyr?" he asked.
"Know about it?" Evelyn echoed. "We ruled it."
The room shifted from confusion to fear.
"What..." Wyatt breathed, "what do you mean?"
"We found it during the war," Evelyn said, some of her usual faraway stare returning as she remembered. "It was when we became who we are. Why we moved to California. How we became rich."
"No," Wyatt said, shaking his head as if to get the words out of his ears. "We got rich when Father struck oil in Holland."
Evelyn let out a short laugh. "That's what we told everyone."
"Why?" Wyatt asked, but the answer was obvious. Who would believe that an ancient forest granted the Bests their riches? Wyatt certainly wouldn't have bought it.
"The business trips he went on before we moved to California," he murmured, sitting back in his chair. "The business trips you went on with him...they were all to Gwydyr?"
Evelyn's silence was answer enough.
Wyatt looked to be completely out of air, so Birdie interjected for him. "You said you ruled Gwydyr?"
Evelyn closed her eyes, a peaceful smile upturning her lips. "Yes. The forest calls to those next in line, like a--what's the word? A magnet, maybe. No matter where you wander, the forest will find you."
Birdie asked, "But if you ruled Gwydyr, why did you leave it?"
Evelyn opened her eyes again, a dark cloud passing over her face. "Because there were others it allowed into it. We had competition for Gwydyr's attention, and we were hardly fighters. People came in and tried to take over..." she shook her head, then her features steeled with a harsh expression. "But what none of those trespassers realized was that Gwydyr was ours to take." Then, quietly, she added, "It was ours to burn."
Wyatt's face contorted with confusion, but Birdie understood.
Perhaps it was because of the twisted look of greed on Evelyn's face. Maybe it was because Birdie knew how desperately Evelyn loved her things. But everything suddenly became clear to her.
"You took Gwydyr's riches, and then you destroyed it," Birdie said, "so no one else could have it."
Wyatt looked at Birdie wildly, as if by proposing such an idea it made her a conspirator herself.
Birdie's stare remained on Evelyn. So many thoughts raced through her mind, but slowly the pieces started coming together.
For so long, they'd wondered if Gwydyr was good or evil. They'd wondered if they could trust it.
They had been asking the wrong questions.
"Gwydyr chose you to protect it and you betrayed it." Birdie lifted her chin. "Didn't you?"
"How could we fend off everyone who wanted a part of it?"
"Why did you need to fend them off?" Wyatt asked, a note of desperation in his voice. Hope that none of this was true. Hope that he wasn't a king. Hope that his family wasn't monsters.
"We were its rulers," Evelyn said, her voice rising, "We had the only rights to it. And we did what was necessary!"
Her last words were spoken in a shout and the wave of quiet that followed was stifling.
"So when you saw the drawings at the farmhouse," Wyatt murmured, "you burned them."
"I tried," Evelyn agreed, though there was no apology for what happened afterward.
The door of the bedroom creaked open and Rose poked her head in. She seemed confused to see Birdie there, but asked, "Is everything alright? I heard someone yell."
Birdie and Wyatt didn't know how to answer that.
Birdie stood up and placed a hand on Wyatt's shoulder. If her thoughts were running a million miles an hour, she could only imagine Wyatt's.
Everything he knew to be true had been a lie and Evelyn didn't seem to have an ounce of remorse for it.
"Do you want me to stay?" Birdie asked quietly.
Wyatt took in a deep breath. "I just...we need a minute. Please."
Birdie stepped back and met Rose's worried gaze.
She went out of the room and Rose closed the door behind them.
"What's going on?" Rose whispered.
Birdie stared at her blankly for a moment. Everything that had just happened seemed far away, like a dream she'd just woken up from.
"His parents ruled Gwydyr," she said, sounding as if she wasn't sure she believed it, "and when they couldn't control all of it, they destroyed it and moved to California. They took everything the forest had they--they--they doomed Wyatt, Mama. That's why it wants him dead, and it won't stop until--until--"
"Shh," Rose murmured, pulling Birdie close. "Take a breath, honey. You look like you've seen a ghost."
Ghosts, for once, were the least of Birdie's problems.
"I'll make some moon milk, then we'll talk," Rose said.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sorry for the late post! I promise not to leave you on a long cliffhanger, though!
~Were you surprised at Evelyn's backstory?
~What do you think happens now?
~General comments on the rest of the chapter?
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