C H A P T E R 4
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In the gloaming, the crows flew in to gather for the night in a stand of bare oaks. Bird by bird, they soared to the rookery, black shadows against the fading light. My kidnapping, still fresh in my mind, left me timid and battered, not trusting a soul ..in the woods. I missed my family, yet days and weeks passed, marked by the routine appearance of the birds. Their arrival aure provided reas-suring tinuity. By the time the trees lost their leaves and their naked limbs stretched to the sky, the crows no longer frightened me. I came to look for-ward to their graceful arrival, silhouetted against the wintry sky, a natural part of my new life.The faeries weled me as their own and taught me the ways of the woods, and I grew fond of them all. In addition to Speck, Igel, Béka and On-ions, there were seven others. The three girls were inseparable—Kivi and Blomma, blonde and freckled, quiet and assured, and their tagalong, Chavisory, a chatterbox who looked no more than five years old. When she grinned, her baby teeth shone like a string of pearls, and when she laughed, her thin shoulders shook and twitched. If she found something truly funny or exg, she took off like a skittering bat, dang in circles and figure eights across the clearing.
Apart from the leader Igel and the loner Béka, the boys formed two pairs. Ragno and Zanzara, as I remember them, reminded me of the two sons of the Italian grocers in town. Thin and olive-skinned boys, each had a thatch of dark curls on his head and was quick to anger and quicker tive. The other set, Smaolad Luchóg, behaved as brothers, though they could not be more dissimilar. T over everyo Béka, Smaolach trated oask at hand, as oblivious and ear as a robin tugging up ah-worm. His good friend Luchóg, smallest of us all, was forever pushing ba untamable lock of night-black hair that curled across his forehead like the tail of a mouse. His eyes, blue as the summer sky, gave away his fierce devotion to his friends, even wheried to feign nonchalance.
Igel, the eldest and leader of the band, took pains to explain the ways of the forest. He showed me how to gig fs and fish, how to find water collected ht in the hollow of fallen leaves, to distinguish edible mush-rooms from deadly toadstools, and dozens of other survival tricks. But even the best guide is no match for experience, and for most of my early time, I was coddled. They kept me under stant watch by at least two others, and I was forced to stay around camp, with dire warnings to hide away at any hint of other people.
"If they catch you, they will think you a devil," Igel told me. "And lock you away, or worse, they will test to see if they are right by throwing you in a fire."
"And you will burn up like kindling>?</a>," said Ragno.
"Ahing more than a puff of smoke," said Zanzara, and Chavisory demonstrated by dang around the campfire, cirg away to the edge of darkness.
When the first hard frost hit, a small party was sent away for an ht excursion, and they came back with armloads of sweaters, jackets, and shoes. Those of us who had stayed behind were shiverih deerskins.
"Since you are the you," Igel told me, "you have first choice of the clothes and boots."
Smaolach, who stood over the pile of shoes, beed me. I noticed that his ow were bare. I poked through the assortment of childrens saddle shoes, square-toed brogues, vas tennis shoes, and the odd unmated boot, choosing at last a pair of brand new blad-white wingtips that seemed to be my size.
"Thosell cut your ankles off."
"How about these?" I asked, holding up the tennis shoes. "I might be able to squeeze into these." My feet felt damp and chilled on the cold ground.
Smaolach rooted around and picked out the ugliest brown shoes I had ever seen. The leather creaked when he flexed the soles, and the laces looked like coiled snakes. Each toe was tipped with a small steel plate. "Trust me, these will keep you warm and toasty all winter long, and a long time in the wearing."
"But theyre too small."
"Do<u></u>nt you know youve been shrinking yourself?" With a sly grin, he reached into his trousers pocket and pulled out a pair of thick woolen socks. "And I found these especially for you."
The whole croed in appreciation. They gave me a cableknit sweater and an oilskin jacket, which kept me dry otest days.
As the nights lengthened and grew colder, we exged rass mats and solitary beds for a heap of animal skins and stolen blas. The twelve of us slept together in a tangled clump. I rather ehe fort of the situ-ation, although most of my friends had foul breath or fetid odors about them. Part of the reason must be the ge i, from the bounty of summer to the decay of late fall and the deprivation of winter. Several of the poor crea-tures had been in the woods for so long that they had given up all hope of human society. Indeed, a handful had no such desire at all, so they lived like animals, rarely taking a bath or ing their teeth with a twig. Even a fox will lick its hindquarters, but some of the faeries were the dirtiest beasts.
That first winter, I yearo go with the hunter-gather<mark>?</mark>ers on their m fe for food and other supplies. Like the crows that ve dusk and dawn, those thieves enjoyed freedom away from the roost. While I was left behind, I had to suffer babysitters like that toad Béka and his panion Onions, or old Zanzara and Ragno, who squabbled all day and threw nutshells and sto the birds and squirrels poking around our hidden hoard. I was bored and cold and lonesome for adventure.
On a gray m, Igel himself chose to stay behind to watch over me, and as luck would have it, my friend Smaolach kept him pany. They breot of tea from dried bark and peppermint, and as we watched a cold rain fall, I pressed my case.
"Why wont you let me go with all the others?"
"My great fear is that youll run away and try to return whence you came, but you ot, Aniday. You are one of us now." Igel sipped his tea and stared at a point far off. After a det interval, letting his wisdom sink into my mind, he tinued. "Oher hand, you have proved yourself a valu-able member of our . You gather the kindling, husk the as, and dig a new privy hole when asked. You are learning true obediend deference. I have watched you, Aniday, and you are a good student of our ways."
Smaolach stared into the dying fire and said something in a secret lan-guage, all vowels and hard sonants full of phlegm. Igel pondered over that secret sentehen chewed on his own thoughts before spitting them out. Then, as now, I was eternally puzzled over how people think, by rocess they solve lifes riddles. Their sultation el resumed his study of the horizon.
"Youre to e with Luchóg ahis afternoon," Smaola-formed me with a spiratorial wink. "Well show you the lay of the land around these parts as soon as the rest of them get back."
"You better dress warmly," Igel advised. "This rain will geover soon."
Ohe first snowflakes started mixing with the raindrops, and within minutes, a heavy snow began to fall. We were still sitting in our places when the faery troop meandered back to the camp, chased home by the sud-den inclemency. Winter sometimes came early to our part of the try, but usually we did not get a snowfall until after Christmas. As the squall blew in, I wondered for the first time whether Christmas had passed altogether, or perhaps at least Thanksgiving had slipped by, and most certainly Halloween was gone. I thought of my family, still looking for me every day in the woods. Perhaps they thought me dead, which made me feel sorry and wish that word could be sent ing my welfare.
At home, Mom would be unpag boxes of decorations, putting out the stable and the manger, running garland up the stair rail. The past Christ-mas, my father took me out to chop down a small fir tree for the house, and I wondered if he was sad now, without me to help him choose the right one. I even missed my little sisters. Were they walking and talking and dreaming of Santa Claus, w what had bee of me?
"What day is it?" I asked Luchóg as he ged into warmer clothes.
He licked his finger and held it into the wind. "Tuesday?"
"No, I mean what day of the year? What day of the month?"
"I have no idea. Judging by the signs, could be late November, early December. But memory is a tricky thing and unreliable when it es to time or weather."
Christmas had not passed after all. I resolved to watch the days from then on and to celebrate the season in an appropriate fashion, even if the rest of them did not care about holidays and such things.
"Do you know where I get a paper and a pencil?"
He struggled into his boots. "Now, what would you want them things for?"
"I want to make a dar."
"A dar? Why, you would need a store of paper and any number of pencils to keep a dar out here. Ill teach you how to watch the sun in the sky and take notice of the living things. Youll know time enough by them."
"But what if I want to draicture or write someone a note?"
Luchóg zipped up his jacket. "Write? To whom? Most of us have fot-ten how to write entirely, and those that havent, didnt learn in the first place. It is better to have your say and not be putting down in more or less a perma- way what youre thinking or feeling. That way lies danger, little trea-sure."
"But I do like to draw pictures."
We started across the ring, where Smaolad Igel stood like two tall trees, ferring. Because Luchóg was the smallest of us all, he had trouble keeping up with me. Boung along at my side, he tinued his disserta-tion.
"So, youre an artist, are ye? No pencil and paper? Do you know that the artists of old made their oer and pens? Out of animal skin and bird feathers. And ink from soot and spit. They did, and further back still, they scratched on stones. Ill teach you how to leave your mark, a you that paper if you want, but iime."
When we reached the leader, Igel clapped me on the shoulder and said, "Youve earned my trust, Aniday. Listen ahese two."
Luchóg, Smaolach, and I set off into the woods, and I looked back to wave goodbye. The other faeries sat together in bunches, huddled against the cold, ahe snow coat them, mad and exposed stoics.
I was thrilled at being out of that camp, but my panions did their best to trol my curiosity. They let me stumble about orails for a time before my clumsiness flushed a covey of doves from their rest. The birds exploded into the air, all pipes ahers. Smaolach put a fio his lips, and I took the hint. Copying their movements, I became nearly as graceful, and we walked so quietly that I could hear the snowfall over the sound of our foots<samp>??</samp>teps. Silence has its own allure and grace, heightening all the senses, espe-cially hearing. A twig would snap in the distand instantly Smaolad Luchóg would cock their heads in the dire of the sound and identify its cause. They showed me the hidden things silence revealed: a pheasant ing its o spy on us from a thicket, a crow hopping from branch to branch, a ra sn in its den. Before the daylight pletely faded, we tramped through the wet grounds to the mucky bank of the river. Along the waters edge ice crystals grew, and listening closely, we heard the crack of freezing. A single duck paddled further down the river, and eaowflake hissed as it hit the waters surface. The sunlight faded like a whisper and vanished.
"Listen"—Smaolach held his breath—"to this."
At ohe snow ged over to sleet, which ticked against the fallen leaves and rocks and dripping branches, a miniature symphony of the natural world. We walked away from the river and took cover in a grove of evergreens. Icased each of the needles in a clear jacket. Luchóg pulled out a leather pouch hanging from a cord around his neck, first produg a tiny paper and then a fat pinch of dried and brown grasslike fibers that looked like tobacco. With deft fingers and a quick lick, he rolled a thin cigarette. From another se of the pouch, he extracted several wooden matches, ted them in his palm, aurned all but oo the roof partment. His thumbnail struck the match, causing it to burst into flame, which Luchóg ap-plied to the end of the cigarette. Smaolach had dug a hole deep enough to reach a layer of dry needles and es. Carefully taking the burning match from his friends fiips, he set it in the bowl, and in short order we had a fire to toast our palms and fiips. Luchóg passed the cigarette to Smaolach, who took a deep drag ahe smoke inside his mouth for a long time. When he exhaled at last, the effect was as sudden and percussive as the punch-lio a joke.
"Give the boy a puff," Smaolach suggested.
"I dont know how to smoke."
"Do what I do," said Luchóg through ched teeth. "But whatever you do, dont tell Igel about this. Dont tell a all."
I took a drag on the glowing cigarette and began coughing and sputter-ing from the smoke. They giggled a on laughing well after the last scrap had been ihe air beh the evergreen boughs was thick with a strange perfume, which made me feel dizzy, light-headed, and slightly nau-seous. Luchóg and Smaolach fell uhe same spell, but they merely seemed tent, simultaneously alert and peaceful. The sleet began to taper off, and sileurned like a lost friend.
"Did you hear that?"
"What is it?" I asked.
Luchóg shushed me. "First, listen to see if you hear it." A moment later, the sound came to me, and though familiar, its substand in mysti-fied me.
Luchóg sprang to his feet and rousted his friend. "Its a car, little treasure. Have you ever chased an automobile?"
I shook my head, thinking he must have me fused with a dog. Both of my panions took hold of my hands and off we went, running faster than I had ever imagined possible. The world whirred by, patches and blurs of darkness where trees oood. Mud and snow kicked up, mottling our trousers as we sped on at an insanely giddy pace. When the brush grew thicker, they let go of my hands and we raced dowrail one behind the other. Branches slapped me in the face, and I stumbled and fell into the muck. Scrambling to my feet, cold a and dirty, I realized I was alone for the first time in months. Fear took hold, and I opened my eyes and ears to the world, desperate to find my friends. Fierce pains of tration shot ay forehead, but I bore down and heard them running through the snow in the distance. I felt a neowerful magi my senses, for I could see them clearly, while realizing that they should be too far ahead and out of sight. By visualizing my way, I gave chase, and the trees and brahat had -fused me before now seemed no obstacle. I whipped through the woods the arrow flies through the openings in a fence, without a thought, fold-ing up its wings at the right moment, gliding through.
When I caught up, I found they were standing behind the rough pines short of the forest edge. Before us lay a road and on that road a car had stopped, its headlights streaking through the misty darkness, broken pieces of the metal grille glistening on the asphalt. Through the open drivers door, a small light shone in the empty cab. The anomaly of the car pulled me toward it, but the strong arms of my friends held me back. A figure emerged from the darkness and stepped into the light, a thin young woman in a bright red coat. She held one hand to her forehead, and bending slowly, she reached out with her free arm, nearly toug a dark mass lying in the road.
"She hit a deer," Luchóg said, a note of sadness in his voice. She agonized over its prostrate form, pulling her hair back from her face, her other hand pressed against her lips.
"Is it dead?" I asked.
"The trick," said Smaola a quiet voice, "is to breathe into its mouth. Its not dead at all, but in shock."
Luchóg whispered to me. "Well wait until shes gone, and you in-spire it."
"Me?"
"Dont you know? Youre a faery now, same as us, and do anything we do."
The notion overwhelmed me. A faery? I wao knht away if it was true; I wao test my own powers. So I broke away from my friends, approag the deer from the shadows. The woman stood in the middle of that lonesome road, sing in both dires for another car. She did not notice me until I was already there, croug over the animal, my hand upon its warm flank, its pulse rag alongside my own. I cupped the deers muzzle in my hand and breathed into its hot mouth. Almost immediately, the beast lifted its head, shouldered me out of the way, and rocked itself up into a stand-ing position. For an instant, it stared at me; then, like a white ensign, its tail shot up a warning, and the deer bounded into the night. To say that we—the animal, the woman, myself—were surprised by this turn of events would be the most severe uatement. She looked bewildered, so I smiled at her. At that moment, my rades started calling to me in loud whispers.
"Who are you?" She ed herself tighter in that red coat. Or at least I thought those were her words, but her voice sounded alien, as if she were speaking through water. I stared at the ground, realizing that I did not know the true answer. Her face drew close enough for me to detect the beginning of a smile on her lips and the pale bluegreen of her irises behind her glasses. Her eyes were splendid.
"We must go." From the darkness, a hand grasped my shoulder, and Smaolach dragged me away into the bushes, leavio wonder if it had all been a dream. We hid in a tangle while she searched for us, and at last she gave up, got in her car and drove off. I did not know it at the time, but she was the last human person I was to enter for more than a dozen years. The tail-lights zigzagged over the hills and through the trees until there was no more to see.
We retreated bap in a cross silence. Halfway home, Luchóg advised, "You mustnt tell anyone about what happeonight. Stay away from people and be tent with who you are." On the journey, we created a necessary fi to explain our long absence, ied a narrative of the wa-ters and the wild, and oold, our story endured. But I never fot that secret of the redcoated woman, and later, when I began to doubt the world above, the memory of that bright and lonely meeting reminded me that it was no myth.
百度搜索 The stolen Child 天涯 或 The stolen Child 天涯在线书库 即可找到本书最新章节.