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Confused, Shallah crouched to the ground, her kirtle pooling around her. “What’s the matter, Liam?” she asked him, beckoning him to her. “What is it?”
He looked at the flowers in his cupped palms. They made him sad.
“Come to me,” Shallah said.
He stepped forward slowly. He thought about letting the blossoms fall to the ground, but before he had the chance Shallah found his folded hands.
“What have you got there?” she asked. She blinked at him, and he felt such terrible sorrow for her broken eyes, for all the flowers they would never see.
Liam let Shallah bring his hands to her face. She put her nose close to the flowers and inhaled deeply. She smiled. “Beautiful,” she said, and he felt a little better.
After all, he had made her smile.
When evening came upon them, Shallah found a suitable place to camp in a clearing among the ferns. She laid a blanket over the needles packed into the red earth, and used her cloak as a pillow for them both. The night air was warm, full of the vestiges of a hot summer, and there was no need for a fire.
Liam curled into her side as soon as she’d tucked the blankets around him, his eyelids drooping.
“Sweet dreams, child,” Shallah whispered, smoothing the hair from his forehead. She kept her hand on his back until his breathing became regular with sleep. It was reassuring to feel the warmth of his small body, the insistent beating of his little heart. It had been so long since she’d touched another with affection. She was astonished to realize how much she’d missed it.
As night set in, Shallah sat cross-legged in her shift, her clothes folded neatly at her side. It really was too warm for such thick clothing, and she thought she might leave off her stockings altogether the next day, and perhaps even her kirtle.
What does it matter? she thought to herself. It’s not as though Sedemay Hale will be jumping out of the bushes to catch me, and my shift is certainly decent enough for Liam to view. But even as she had this thought, she knew she would be donning her kirtle as always the next morning. Tramping through the woods in her underthings would make her feel too much of a wild thing, and she’d been accused of wildness enough in her life for the idea to leave a sour taste in her mouth.
Pulling her knees up to her chin, she closed her eyes and pictured the way they’d come. The white path sprang up in her mind, snaking its way back to Trallee. They’d passed behind the village going west, and were making their way toward Minnow Lake. Once they’d skirted it, the trees would become denser still and they’d follow the path to a fork in the road giving them a choice of left or right, north or south.
Shallah hadn’t yet decided which path they would take. The choice would be an easy one, if only she knew where they were going. A nagging question she’d been avoiding all along pushed itself into her mind: how could she take this boy home when she'd no idea where it was?
It was entirely possible that the boy had no home, that he’d been abandoned by his people as a sacrifice or a punishment. Barring that, his village could be in some remote corner of the wood where none had journeyed before, where she herself had never dreamed of venturing. There were no settlements nearby, for during none of her late-night excursions had she ever met another soul. As far as she knew, in all of this vast wood, Trallee was alone.
The temptation to take alarm was strong, but Shallah gritted her teeth and resisted. They’d had a good day, and the night was calm. If she lost her head now, when all was going well, how would she fare when the way became difficult?
Pressing her cheek into her knee, she reviewed her options. She’d been south several times and knew the path petered out within half a day’s walk in that direction. She was none too eager to go scrambling through the underbrush, though she knew it might be inevitable. The northern route was less clear, which made her anxious, but optimistic as well. For, the unknown was full of possibilities, and the possible was more hopeful than the impossible. Still, if she chose incorrectly, they could waste days in aimless wandering.
Idly, Shallah stroked Liam’s arm through the blanket. Her instincts pointed them north, she couldn’t explain why. It was something about Liam that made her feel it so strongly.
“Who knows what we might find,” she said aloud, and the boy stirred in his sleep.“North,” she whispered to herself, glad to have the matter decided. She would leave her concerns for the next day.
Pulling the blanket over her, Shallah placed her head beside Liam’s and snuggled close. As she fell into sleep, already dreaming perhaps, she kissed Liam on the head and said softly into his ear, “Lead me to him.”
To Shallah, Minnow Lake was like an old friend, one seldom seen and often missed. She remembered vividly the first time she’d come upon it. It was a few months after she’d begun her rambles at night, and she’d yelped with surprise when her feet had sunk into the cool water, her legs suddenly submerged up to her ankles. The village well was the only source of water she’d ever known, save for a good rainstorm. Since then, she’d stumbled upon many others – streams and brooks, ponds and ravines – but back then she’d been wholly ignorant of their existence. She had never encountered a lake before.
She’d splashed in the lake for hours that night.
At first she’d thought herself awfully clever to have discovered this magnificent field of water before anyone else. She’d been shamed out of that conceit soon enough. Only a day later, while she was perched in the branches of her favourite spruce, Kimbery Klink had emerged out of the trees in a terrible fury, leading her son Hacon and his friend Balduin Goss by the ears. Both boys were soaking wet.
Even high up in the tree Shallah had overheard every word of Kimbery’s tirade. She’d not taken much care to lower her voice.
“Bathing, were you? Having a little swim? You’re a curse on me, boy. A curse! Just wait until I tell your father. And you! Don’t think you’ll be getting off easy. I’ll be having a long talk with your mother. Dim-witted, the both of you. Minnow Lake! Did you even think of the dangers? Did you think of anything at all? I’ll be damned if I let you out of my sight again. Swimming, having a good time! Well, your good times have come to an end, boys. Minnow Lake! Never before in my life …”
That was the first time Shallah had heard the name Minnow Lake.
She returned to the lake every once in a while, usually when she was feeling particularly lonely, or missing her father most poignantly. It always welcomed her with open arms. She often cried there, a weakness she almost never allowed herself. Somehow it seemed safer to cry in the water, where her tears could be absorbed in an instant. She never stayed long, for to linger would break the spell of the place, but each time she left she felt a little stronger. The lake healed her, soothing her wounded heart. It made her feel less alone.
Upon awakening, Minnow Lake was the first thought on Shallah’s mind, and she greeted the day with a smile. The morning was fresh with a slight hint of a breeze, another good day for travel. Liam was already up and about, scuffling in the bushes at her feet, full of that boundless energy that only children enjoy. Shallah left him to his play for a moment or two, happy to rest in the warm cocoon of blankets. She’d had a wonderful dream and its images lingered in her mind delightfully. Dreams always brought her such joy.
She was never blind in her dreams.
An odd sound broke her from her reverie. It was a moment before she realized what she was hearing.
Liam was humming.
Shallah sat in up amazement, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Was it truly Liam humming this strange melody? It was a complicated tune, much more intricate than any she’d heard sung in the village. Its haunting music spoke of loss, but of discovery and redemption as well. It was a song of hope.
As the morning breeze grazed over her, mingling with Liam’s song, Shallah was filled with gladness. She didn’t linger in her amazement that the boy had such sounds in his head, but none to share in words. He would speak when he needed to. In that moment it seemed to her that everything was happening just as it should, and it was best not to question it.
She’d pulled her kirtle over her head and was tying the laces when Liam saw she was awake and came to her side. He took her hand and pressed something into her palm. She grinned. It was a small sprig of fresh berries.
After a quick breakfast of oat cakes and ale, Shallah and Liam got on their way. They began at a leisurely pace, for Shallah didn’t want to tire too early.
Better to pace ourselves and enjoy the journey, she thought. I certainly won’t be in this good a mood every morning.
The day passed with the telling of stories. Once again Shallah felt herself opening up to the boy, speaking of things she never admitted to anyone. She told him of her childhood, describing those carefree days before she’d lost the world to darkness. She found herself dwelling on a description of her father, recalling his large hands, his shy grin, his clumsiness. She explained how she’d felt when her father had gone and left her alone, how she’d railed against him in her thoughts, but never allowed herself to blame him aloud. How she’d clung to the house, unwilling to leave it even for a brief moment in case her father returned. And how the days had stretched out before her without her father’s voice to fill them.
What has come over me? she wondered to herself.
It was as though every secret she’d ever kept was struggling to be set free, and she could hardly talk fast enough to let them out. The villagers wouldn’t have recognized this forthcoming girl as the Shallah they knew, for that Shallah was reserved and often silent. That Shallah never let her true self be seen.
Then who is this Shallah? she mused. Am I still myself? Or has the wood transformed me into some other girl?
But Shallah didn’t feel like somebody else. For the first time in a long while she felt like herself. With each story she told she was letting go of all the hurt and pain she’d been holding within. She felt more free than she had in years, and she had Liam to thank, for he was as rapt an audience as anyone could have wished for. He leaned his cheek against her hand when she spoke of something sad and sucked in his breath at the frightening parts. When she paused for breath, or to think of what to say next, he tugged at her kirtle, urging her to go on. He never seemed to tire of the sound of her voice.
Absorbed as they were, they paid no attention to the forest about them. The spruces and firs in this part of the wood were barer than those of Trallee, their branches emerging high above the heads of those passing on the forest floor. If she could have seen, Shallah might have commented on the loneliness of the surroundings. The foliage was sparser here, allowing the eye to travel for miles in all directions, encountering naught but mossy trunks, each isolated from the others as though they’d been warned not to touch. The cones were more numerous here as well, scattering before them as they walked.
In between tales Shallah noted that there was little sound save the crunching of their shoes on the needles and the rolling of the cones. No birds chirped, no squirrels scrambled about. All the familiar sounds of the forest had ceased. Though she tried not to show it, the silence left her feeling somewhat hollow. The quiet was most noticeable when they stopped to eat and for a quarter of an hour they shared no talk at all. Then she could tell Liam too sensed something was odd, for he sat close to her and kept turning his head about as though puzzled by their surroundings.
It was a relief when in early afternoon they took a turn in the path and came upon Minnow Lake. Shallah hadn’t quite realized how close it was, for they were almost upon it before she heard the lapping of the water.
Minnow Lake wasn’t truly a lake in the traditional sense. Shallah’s father had often dreamed of big waters, and had described the way the sun’s light would reflect on it at sunset, and that the canopy couldn’t cover it, for it was too grand a thing to be closed in like a forest. If such mythic places were to be called lakes, then Minnow Lake was naught but a dim recollection of what a lake had once been.
It was irregular in shape, with watery fingers running off in several directions. Its body was dotted with islands, small clumps of earth from which the trees grew up, their branches spreading wide so that even over its waters the sky could be seen only in patches. The lake’s waters were clear, exposing the rocky bed and labyrinthine root systems below. Despite its name, and to the disappointment of those daring boys who sought it out, buckets in hand, Minnow Lake held no fish of any kind.
Shallah was eager to introduce Liam to the lake, to share with him another of her secrets. She hadn’t told him they would be seeing such a sight that day, for she’d hoped to surprise the boy with it. She realized her mistake the moment Liam caught sight of the lake through the trees. She heard him catch his breath, and he faltered in his step. Then he dropped her hand for the first time and ran ahead.
All her glad anticipation dissolved in an instant and her original fears came rushing back. “Wait for me!” she commanded. She knew the dangers of water. One of Old Brice’s boys had once fallen down the well. She knew if Liam fell into the lake …
“Don’t fall,” she whispered under her breath as she tore down the path. “Please, don’t fall.”
She caught him just in time.
He’d scrambled over the larger rocks which sat all along this side of the shore. One false step and their journey might have come to an abrupt end.
Shallah clung to Liam with relief. “You frightened me!” she scolded, though she knew he wasn’t to blame. Most likely he’d never seen such a thing as a lake before, and couldn’t know its dangers.
Liam seemed somewhat bewildered by the intensity of her reaction, and kept glancing over at the lake as though trying to see what all the fuss was about.
Once she’d recovered from her fright, Shallah took the boy’s hand in hers and leaned forward over the rocks, to show him how cold the water was, and how deep. However, though they leaned far out, their hands met only with dry earth.
