Part 41 (2/2)

Gid turned, but it was too late.

The dark shape engulfed him, leaving only the silhouette of Gid's lower half was visible in the moonlight. He struggled, cried out, and then the thing shook him out like a wife shakes a rug and cast Gid's broken body aside in a heap.

Prunes was rooted to the spot in horror. That thing had killed Gid like he was a fly.

The creature raised its head and chuffed like a horse. Then it turned and looked straight at Prunes across the yard.

He'd fought in a number of battles, nearly lost his life a dozen times. But nothing had ever put fear into him like the gaze of that rough monster.

By all that was holy . . .

His bladder released. He dropped his knife, backed up in horror, then ran.

Sugar stood in the barn filling a barrel with barley and oats for the horse. They had a long ride ahead and the animal would need rich food. Legs stood by her side.

”Did you hear that?” he asked.

Sugar hadn't heard a thing. She was too busy thinking about what had just happened with Talen, what River had said, and what was happening now back at the house.

River sat at the table back in the house with Talen, making him open and close the doors in his being, whatever that meant, over and over again. For the last hour all River had done was sit there, holding Talen's hand at the table, telling him to open and close, again and again, telling him that she had to be sure he could hold himself to himself.

In her mind, Sugar knew it was a great evil they practiced at the table. But in her heart she could not help but want to learn it as well, for when River had told her what her mother was, it had come, not as a shock, but a loss. A lost opportunity with Mother, whom she knew was not wicked.

”The story is never what you first hear,” Mother had always said. And she'd always held to that belief in her dealings. When Sugar was a little girl and had been accused of stealing a village boy's carved, cherry-wood horse, her mother had believed her denials. Later that same day, when Sugar finally confessed and showed her mother the horse, her mother had not sent her away. She'd taken her in her arms and stroked her hair and kissed her forehead and said, ”It's a brave thing to admit to a lie. Foolish to lie in the first place. But brave to put the lie out in the sun for everyone to see.” She'd hugged her tight. ”Your bravery is as fine as peas and fatty beef,” Mother had said. ”Fat peas and fatty beef.” And from that time forward, ”fat peas and fatty beef” had been their saying.

How many times had Mother seen through her mistakes to what was praiseworthy? Even when Da was teaching her to fight, she believed Sugar would find a find young man in Koramtown and raise splendid children. The two of them had talked about what they'd do together with Sugar's future children, all the wonderful places she and Mother had visited with Legs in tow. The crabbing bay, their waterfall in the woods, the patch of wild blueberries by the b.u.t.tes. And Mother would come stay with her in Koramtown and join in the knitting hours and teach Sugar's daughter how to knit just as she'd taught Sugar.

So much lost, and for the first time since they left, Sugar could feel the emotion rising in her.

”There's that sound again,” said Legs.

Sugar emerged out of her reverie. ”What did you say?”

”I think a man's outside,” said Legs.

The hairs on the back of Sugar's neck stood up, and she doused the lamp. She stood in the dark for a moment listening, then hunched at a knot hole in the side of the barn that gave a view of the yard. She put her eye to the hole and saw nothing at first. Then something large moved by the house.

She didn't have her night vision yet, and thought, unaccountably, that it was the mule. But then the body of a man fell to the ground, and a dark shadow walked out from the side of the house and into the moonlight.

She got a good look at the shadow. A ma.s.sive thing. Then it looked right at her, as if it could see her eye at the knot hole. Fear ran up her spine, and she drew back, grabbing Leg's hand, and pulled him down. Surely it had seen her light earlier and heard her talking. It would know they were in the barn. Yet, she didn't dare run, for then it would surely mark them.

Outside the barn, someone ran across the hard dirt of the yard. A moment later that thing followed, coming straight towards the barn.

They needed to hide, to burrow in the hay, but the creature was coming too fast. The door stood wide open to the moonlit yard, and Sugar could do nothing but watch as a misshapen thing, huge and s.h.a.ggy, walked into view.

A scream rose inside her. She cried out. She could not help herself, and the beast glanced her way.

But it did not stop. It walked past the door, then began to run. In moments its footfalls receded from the barn.

Sugar could not move. Her heart beat in her throat. She could barely breathe.

”Those heavier footsteps, what were they?” asked Legs.

Sugar did not reply.

Legs said, ”It was the thing that carried Mother away, wasn't it?”

Sugar looked at him. How could he have known that? ”I don't know.” And yet, what else could it be?

”I held the charm today, down in the cellar,” said Legs. ”Do you think the creature has come to help us?”

”No,” said Sugar. Not that thing. The wisterwives created beauty. That was from some other source. Whatever it was, River could offer more protection than this barn ever would. ”We need to get to the house.”

”I saw Mother. I held the charm in my hand and saw her.”

”What?”

”I saw Mother.”

”With the charm?”

”Yes,” Legs said.

”But I thought you said you didn't trust the charm.”

”River said it was a gift.”

He was right; she had indeed said that. ”Mother's alive?”

”She was calling. Telling me to watch and be ready.”

”This is all too confusing,” she said. ”River claims the creature is not part of this Order she and Mother belong to. It's a wicked thing.”

Legs said, ”You're convinced it's not Mother's?”

”I don't know what to think. And we don't have time now to ferret it all out. We'll discuss it later with River.” She took him by the hand, stood, and quietly walked to the barn door and peered out into the night. Then, with all the courage she could muster, she tightened her grip on Leg's hand and dashed across the yard. When they burst into the dimly lit house, both Talen and River looked up at them.

”It's here,” said Sugar. ”The creature from Whitecliff.”

Both looked at her in silence.

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