3: Dandelions

Ezra

It was another three days before Ma and Pa were busy enough for me to sneak away again. I told myself I was going back into The Wilds because I’d left my good coat and my sketch pad there—but I knew that wasn’t the real reason.

No, I hoped against hope that I would see the strange witch that looked like a seashell again.

So, I made my way to that field of swaying grasses, not worrying too much about the fact that I hadn’t a good coat—I wouldn’t need it in the forest, anyway.

I entered at the same place I had last time, between two enormous oak trees that looked like a gate with how they bent and reached for each other at their canopies.

I found my things there, just as I’d left them; the coat and scarf folded clumsily on top of the satchel. I picked up my bag first and stuffed the other treasures into it. I looked around me, seeing if that little witch would miraculously appear as she had the first time, but she wasn’t there.

I tried not to feel sad about it.

I decided, instead, to wander through the forest the way I’d originally intended to the first time I came there.

I went the opposite way that I chased the girl last time. Something about going the same way felt unlucky. I’m sure I could break my arm just about anywhere, but I didn’t feel up to seeing the giant tree again.

The wilds were… something.

The critters weren’t really afraid of people like they were in the forest behind the old lumber yard, or in the woods where Pa and I would hunt sometimes. They sort of just watched me as I made my way over and through. I even gave some of them the left over bread in my bag that had gone stale.

To my delight, they took it right out of my hand.

When I’d worked up my courage, I ventured deeper into the forests—nowhere so far that I couldn’t see the rye fields from where I stood, but I had heard the rush of a river somewhere and my curiosity reeled me towards it.

As I drew closer, another sound joined the calm trickling sounds of the river. A soft voice singing words I’d never heard before.

Merry meet, and merry part,

Only if you’re pure of heart,

Eterna may see fit to give you,

Boughs of trees that will surround you,

A river to sing you to sleep,

A doe, a stag, a friend to keep,

So, when you’re sad and lost and lonely,

Remember that you’re not the only,

One.

You’re not the only one among the trees.

The Wilds sway.

The Wilds bend the eaves.

It was a jaunty tune, bright and playful, like the ones the girls in town would sing while they did those baffling hand clapping games that looked like too much trouble to learn.

I hung back near a tree near the river and found her there.

Her back was to me, her little pale feet splashing in the rushing waters as she sang. Her white hair tumbled in wild curls to the middle of her shoulders, and she had a crown of yellow flowers in her hair—dandelions.

My mouth curved unexpectedly, and my heart ached in my chest.

I wanted to draw her.

As if she heard the thought, she stiffened and looked over her shoulder.

She jumped up onto her feet and looked me up and down, pale eyebrows knitting in the center with a little line. I bit my lip and froze, the same way I would if I were hunting a deer. I didn’t want her to run again, so I just stayed quiet.

She was still wearing that white dress that looked like night clothes, and I wondered if that was all she ever wore.

“You’re back,” she said. “Why are you back?”

A flush rose to my face. I could feel the heat of it in my ears.

“That’s an awful rude thing to say to someone,” I said indignantly.

“Boys aren’t allowed in The Wilds,” she said, “Especially not from the village.”

“Well, I had to come get my coat and my other things,” I said, shaking my bag demonstrably. “You didn’t send my things with me when you sent me back home.”

She looked at my bag curiously, as if she hadn’t really thought about it. So, it was her then. She’d healed me and gotten me home.

“I didn’t think they were so important,” she admitted.

“Well, they are—to me, anyway. My Ma spent a lot on the coat and my Grammy made the scarf, and the bag belonged to Pa before he gave it to me—and I’ve got a sketch pad in here too that I made myself.”

Her green-yellow eyes were glued to the items I’d listed. Her mouth pursed before she met my gaze.

“Sorry,” she said.

The way she said it made me feel bad, like she really felt bad for not thinking about it when she sent me back home. My face warmed again, and I wiped at my nose a bit as I looked away from her.

“S’alright, I gott’em back,” I mumbled.

“You should go back home then,” she said.

I scowled at her. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to get hurt again,” she said. “What if it happens when I’m not here to help you?”

“Thank you for the help last time, by the way…” I said, “I don’t know how you did it, but I was fit as a fiddle when I woke up over in the village.”

She shrugged a little, playing with her fingers.

“What’s a fiddle?” she asked.

I sputtered a laugh. She’d never heard of a fiddle?

“Ah, well—it’s an instrument, you know, for music? It’s made of wood and it’s got four strings and you play it with a bow—”

“Like the things the hunters use?”

“Ah—well, not really—its more like…”

I struggled to find the words to describe a fiddle accurately. I wish I’d had one to show her.

“Oh,” I said, shaking my head at my own stupidity, “Hang on, I’ll show you.”

I sat down on the ground, hemmed in by a couple of fat roots of the old tree. I opened my bag and pulled out my coat and my scarf, setting them aside. Then I grabbed my leather-bound sketch pad and opened it up, supporting it on my lap as I drew with my charcoal.

The little witch crossed the river to my side as I worked at it for a while. I heard her feet slosh through the water and flushed as she sat on one of the tree roots next to me, watching me draw.

I looked at her only briefly before turning more pointedly away from her.

She moved with me, trying to get a better view.  

“D-Don’t look over my shoulder like that,” I said.

“How come? You said you’d show me—”

“When it’s finished,” I said, exasperated.

Her head tilted like a curious hound, but she stalked back to her spot on the tree roots.

After about ten minutes, I finally handed off the rendering to her.

“S’not that good, but it gets the idea across,” I said.

I couldn’t look at her directly as she examined it. Heat crept up my neck again and she turned it this way and that, as if trying to make sense of it.

“This part, the stick—that’s the bow?”

I looked at the drawing and nodded, mouth pressing.

She nodded and looked at it again.

“What do they sound like?” she asked.

I opened my mouth and then closed it.

How could I even describe it?

“I’ll—I’ll try to bring Pa’s over sometime,” I said. “I’m not as good at it as Pa is, but I can play a little. I’ll ask him to teach me more.”

Her eyes flicked up to mine, and she smiled.

It was such a pretty smile. Her eyes sparkled like the water babbling in the river. I couldn’t help but return it.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Yours first,” she said.

“Ezra.”

She blinked, looking almost taken aback.

“What?” I asked. “It’s not that weird of a name.”

“No, it’s not, but names are powerful. You shouldn’t just give them away like that. What if I meant to do something bad with it?”

I rubbed my nape and looked away.

“I mean, do you mean to?”

“No, but I could have,” she said.

I shrugged.

“I guess I just figure if you wanted to hurt me somehow you would have done it last time when I fainted in the forest,” I said. “You don’t seem the dangerous type.”

She looked down at the drawing while she thumbed the corner of my sketchpad. She was nibbling on her lower lip like she was thinking really hard about something.

“I’m Aurelia,” she said finally.

“Aurelia.”

It was a strange name, one like I’d never heard. The names in Dewsbury were so plain when I held them up against it. Ezra, Isiah, Mildred, Connie—Aurelia felt like a princess’s name by comparison.

I loved it.

“You really shouldn’t come back, Ezra. I wanna hear the fiddle, and I wanna know more about your world, but I’m worried about what will happen if you keep coming back. What if one of my sisters finds you?”

“Who are your sisters?”

It was the wrong question. I saw it was as soon as I’d asked it.

Aurelia stiffened and slammed my sketch pad shut, throwing it at me. I scrambled to catch it.

“H-Hey!”

She ran off, leaping over the river and racing through the woods.

“Don’t come back, Ezra! It’s not safe!”

All I could do was watch as she vanished through the latticework of trees.

I shook my head and scoffed.

“You can’t boss me around, little witch,” I said, even though I knew she wouldn’t hear it.