Had it really been more than a week since she’d slept in her own bed? It was past time to insist Cooper take her cot back, but the raccoon-woman wouldn’t hear of it. Lacey could find another hut to sleep in, but most of the Wished were squeezed in two or three per home, and she would likely kick someone out of a bed anywhere she went. Besides, she felt comfortable with Cooper, despite the small woman’s eccentricities. She had another idea. After she washed up she would visit the camp’s supply tent.
Lacey walked back to Cooper’s hut with a bucket of water from the lake. She was starting to feel at home here. If someone hissed or snapped, it was taken in stride. Nobody would look down on her for behaving a little bat-like, now and then. And she was hunting every night, learning the skills she needed to follow her dream of becoming an explorer.
It was easy to forget Goeden. Now that she was on a later schedule, she rarely saw the day-hunters. It wasn’t as easy to forget Devan—and her obligation to him. Not until she had gotten him safely home, at least.
Home. She did miss Mama and Ella. Maybe she could see them if she brought Devan back herself. The bakery was on the edge of the village, easy to sneak into without having to cross paths with anyone else. It would be good to tell Mama she was OK, even if she couldn’t stay.
She ducked under the low entrance of Cooper’s hut. That was the one drawback living with the small woman. She might have to find a new place sooner or later anyway, if she didn’t want to spend all her days nursing bumps on her head. But for now it would do.
Lacey poured steaming water from a kettle into a basin and then cooled it off with lake water. This was Cooper’s suggestion for washing, after Lacey had balked at the idea of bathing in the frigid lake. Lacey wondered if she could convince the Wished to build a bathhouse like the one in Pine Ridge. It couldn’t be that hard.
As she unfastened her shirt she felt and odd prickling on her forearm. Lacey pulled her arm out of her sleeve to find patches of coarse dark hair had sprouted up out of nowhere. She ran her fingers over the bristles. As she did, she felt a tender ache under her armpit. She slid her fingers underneath, feeling a swollen ridge extending up from her elbow, and down her ribcage. What was happening to her?
Meemu looked up from the cot, where he had nestled into the blankets, and Lacey hastily pulled her shirt back on. Then she felt silly--he was just a cat. She waited until he had set his head back down and closed his eyes, before she crouched down in front of the polished metal mirror hanging at Cooper’s height. Her teeth had been feeling like more of a mouthful recently. She made a face, drawing her lips back. Her fangs were definitely longer, and her ears too.
She snapped her mouth shut and stood up. Her heart pounded. She was changing, becoming more bat. But so what? That didn’t matter to the Wished. They would still accept her, probably even more if she were less human.
Was it normal for the Wished to change like this? She thought about asking Cooper, but maybe it was better to wait and see. She loosened her shirt again, and turned her back to Meemu, washing under her clothes.
When she was done, she put on the short wooly cloak Cooper had given her, and pulled the hood up over her ears before going outside. Meemu wasn’t inclined to get up yet, and she was happy to leave him there. He was small, but he had a rather large opinion of himself. He wasn’t afraid of challenging bigger creatures, and Lacey did not want him running into the day-hunters.
She walked over to the Herd side of camp and popped by Keeran’s hut to get a piece of pan bread sprinkled with the seeds that Keeran loved to put on everything. It wasn’t nearly as delicious as Mama’s loaves, but Lacey was used to starting her day with bread. She tore off small chewy bits to eat as she headed to the supply tent.
The supply tent was on the Hunter side. Blayd was there, leaning across a table of knives. Lacey smiled at him as she stepped under the canvas awning. Tiny Tee stood behind the table; her mouse ears flopped in her eyes as she complained about the cold in her high-pitched voice.
Star sat on the ground whittling a stick, with her pink weasel nose crinkled in concentration. She and Tiny Tee were in charge of the supply tent they could almost be sisters with their slight figures and snowy white fur—except that they were different species. Everything the Wished had at their disposal, to help them survive out here in the wilderness, was stockpiled under this tent. It was mostly stolen; Lacey tried not to think about it.
Star grinned when she noticed Lacey. “Seen anymore haunted trees?”
Lacey laughed and shook her head.
“The closer you get to the well, the stranger things are. Just steer clear of the north. That’s all you need to know.”
“I think I figured that part out now.” Lacey went to the side of the tent where a collection of thick, knotty branches were piled; they were the main material the Wished used for building. She picked out a few pieces the right length for making a new cot. She also selected a pile of blankets to make the mattress, a piece of worn emery cloth for finishing the wood, and put it all in a wobbly cart to bring back with her.
“Oh here,” Tiny Tee plopped a ball of twine atop the cartload. “You will need this to tie it all together, don’t forget. And mind you bring that emery cloth back when you are done, along with any extra bits of string.”
Star looked up from her whittling again. “Staying with us a while, yeah?”
Lacey smiled down at the toes of her boots. “As long as I am welcome, I guess.”
Blayd tapped her on the arm. His shoulders were stooped even more than usual under the low awning. He presented her with a knife. Lacey stared at it. Goeden had been the last to give her a knife, and she’d left that one with Devan.
Blayd pushed the knife closer to her nodding his head, trying to make his intentions more clear. Lacey knew what his intentions were. She just wasn’t sure she wanted another knife. It was a tool, and a necessary one. She and Blayd worked the southern trapline together, now that he wouldn’t let Niva to take her out again. She borrowed his knife at least a half dozen times a night, and needed one of her own. Not just for hunting—this cot-building project would go a lot faster and use a lot less emery cloth, if she had a knife to scrape the bark from the wood. But still she hesitated.
The blade was speckled with rust, and pitted. At first, she was puzzled why he had perused the selection of knives for so long, only to choose one that was in obvious need of some care and attention. Then she realized almost all of the other knives on the table were newer stock, standard issue hunter’s knives. He was trying not to remind her of the attack on her friends, but in the process had done exactly that.
Star was biting her lip and Tiny Tee was making herself overly busy rearranging the knives on the table. Blayd looked so earnest and so oblivious. Lacey didn’t want to upset him, so she put on a smile and took the knife. It felt heavier than she expected.
***
Lacey sat among the pines, her hand holding onto the hilt of her new knife, as if making sure it stayed in its sheath. She was waiting for Devan to go somewhere so she could leave him food. She didn’t have a lot of time before Blayd came looking for her. She kept telling him it wasn’t necessary, but he wouldn’t stop checking up on her. So far she had at least been able to keep him from seeing Devan. It was mostly a pretense. She knew he knew. But he hadn’t done anything about it, and she thought as long as he didn’t see Devan things would continue that way.
These trees here were not “alive” like those closer to the well, but since that night she had become aware of a silent presence in all the trees. She and the trees both watched Devan. It sent a shiver up her spine. They seemed interested in him. It was not the way trees should behave.
She was frustrated that he was still here. The waters from the spring had sped the healing of his wound, and he could easily walk home now. She had left him signs and hints to show him the way, though she never shown her face. Last time she had even made an arrow out of rocks. She could see he had kicked the arrow apart.
Devan had moved his camp out in front of the cave mouth, and it was getting more and more likely that Goeden or his cats would find him. Why didn’t he leave?
She had thought many times about walking straight up to him and telling him to follow her back to the village. It would give her a chance to say her goodbyes to Mama and Ella. But she told herself it was a bad idea because of Blayd and his constant checking.
Finally, he got up from his fire and disappeared into the trees. She tried to ignore the excited susurration of bough against bark overhead, and crept toward the cave with the limp squirrel in her hand.
“Lacey?” Devan said, reappearing. He had been waiting for her.
She dropped the squirrel and turned to run.
He grabbed her arm.
She hissed at him.
He let go instantly, like her arm was a prickly blackberry cane. “Lacey, please stay.”
She stopped, holding the hood of her cloak tightly under her chin.
He rubbed his arms for warmth and picked up the squirrel she had dropped. He motioned for her to sit by the fire with him. “You look different,” he said, hesitantly.
“Your leg? How is it?” Lacey asked, ignoring his statement, and his offer of a seat.
“Much better. I think I can travel now.”
“Good.” She took a step toward the trees.
“I was thinking of looking for the well tomorrow or the next day. I don’t quite remember which direction—“
“What?” she whirled around. Her hood fell away.
Devan’s eyes went wide. It hadn’t been very long since he last saw her, but in that time a second set of fangs had poked up from her bottom teeth, her skin had darkened, and her bat features were more pronounced.
“Look at me, Devan,” she said; although it was the last thing she wanted him to do. “The well only gives out misery and curses.”
The dead squirrel hung backward over his hand, its little mouth gaping; Devan’s knife was poised over its ribcage.
“I’ve marked the trail to the road. Follow it. You’ll be able to find the village once you get to the road. Until then stay out of the trees.”
“The trees?” He asked, finally finding his voice.
She walked away.
“Aren’t you coming back with me?” he shouted.
“No,” she said, over her shoulder. “You’re right, I don’t belong there. Just get to the road. And forget the well.”