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  As night fell, Shallah was sleeping peacefully, snuggling Liam close.

  It seemed like no more than moment had passed when she was rushed awake by the sound of a strange voice. She felt for Liam in the covers beside her but couldn’t find him. Turning carefully onto her stomach, she lay tense, listening for more. Soon, she heard the voice again. It was an old woman’s voice.

  “Well, hello there,” it said. “Have you lost your way?”

  At first Shallah thought the woman was speaking to her, then realized she had to be addressing Liam.

  “I know these parts better than any around, I’d say,” the woman said. “Yes, indeed. Lived here all my life, I have. Bore children and had them grow up and leave me, though none were quite as sweet looking as you, my child. Such lovely dark skin. My, how I would love to keep you. Could use some company out here in the lonely forest. Are you all on your own?”

  Shallah rose to her feet, her shift falling loosely to her ankles. “I am with him,” she said. Though she tried to sound firm, her words came out in a croak.

  Liam came to her side and took her hand. She gripped it tightly.

  “Oh, you did give me a start,” the woman said. “Well, do come here and let me have a look at you. My sight isn’t quite what it used to be.”

  Shallah took a few steps forward, but found that in her rush to come to Liam’s aid she’d disoriented herself. She couldn’t picture the way before her. Seeing her distress, the old woman came to meet her.

  “Have you no sight, my dear?” the woman asked.

  “None at all,” Shallah replied.

  The old woman looked down at Liam. A ray of sunlight fell through the web of boughs above, dappling his cheeks, and his tunic was wrinkled from sleep. He scratched at the back of his head and gazed back at her. The old woman watched him for a long moment, then said, “Ah,”as though she’d just recalled something.

  “Come with me,” she said to them both.

  She led the pair to her home. It lay to the south, in a portion of the forest so dense that to manoeuvre through it one had to know one’s way instinctually. Though Shallah knew they were leaving the path behind and following a stranger into a foreign part of the wood, she felt no concern. In fact, as they delved ever deeper into the trees, a feeling of intrinsic trust bubbled up from her core, and she felt quite positive there was nothing to fear. The old woman seemed a familiar friend, one she must have forgotten, but was glad to find again. She was glad to be led and hoped there would be warm food.

  As they walked, the old woman spoke about her life in the forest and her husband, Jerome, god bless his soul, who’d passed away years before. She wasn’t more than a foot taller than Liam, but she was sprightly for her age. She wore a green man’s tunic tied at the waist with a length of woven reeds. The grey kerchief on her head bobbed before Liam as she hopped over logs and small bushes, rushing along as though they were all late for some fantastic feast. Liam watched in fascination as she pulled ahead of them. She moved so quickly that at times she seemed to be floating.

  Her house was a structure of wattle and daub, and might have resembled the homes of Trallee if it hadn’t been nearly overcome by the hemlock tress surrounding it. The trees were packed so densely that it was difficult to discern the house at all. Liam stared in amazement as the old woman reached through the branches and pulled open a creaking door. It was as though she’d cracked open the forest itself.

  Shallah had to stoop to get through the doorway, for the entire house had been built to suit the old woman’s size. The stool she offered them by the hearth was also tiny and Shallah sat on the dirt floor rather than break it. Liam crouched by her side, his mouth agape.

  The hemlocks hadn’t only conquered the house’s outer walls, but those within as well. They grew against the wooden frame, their roots ribbing the floor, their branches creating a screen to mask the windows. The roof couldn’t be seen at all for the trees had created their own canopy. The old woman’s pallet lay on a hammock of branches, and drying herbs hung in bunches from the boughs by the hearth. The floor was strewn with cones. Taking one of them in her hand, Shallah had the odd sensation of being both indoors and outdoors at once.

  The old woman appeared out of the darkness at the far end of the room, pushing her way through the branches of the trees sprouting in the middle of the floor. She handed them each a hunk of bread and a wooden cup of some sweet liquid Shallah had never tasted before. Though the brew was cold, it warmed her cheeks. It tasted faintly of rain.

  “Isn’t this part of the forest wonderful?” the old woman said as she took a seat on the other side of the fire. She too was drinking the strange liquid, but her cup was far larger and the wood intricately carved, her fingers covering what might have been a face.

  “It’s something in the air, isn’t it? A certain sweetness?” the woman continued.

  Shallah found herself agreeing unconsciously, nodding her head although she hadn’t heard the question. It seemed that whatever the old woman said must be right.

  “Yes, it can be bewitching,” the woman said, as though supporting a claim Shallah had made. “I was caught up in its enchantment long ago, and it’s kept me here. Its will is strong.”

  Shallah felt her mind clouding over. Her head began to feel extremely heavy, and yet light at the same time. The woman’s voice seemed very far away.

  “Don’t concern yourself,” the woman said. “Once you’ve rounded the hills your mind will clear. I would have kept you here with me, to be my company, oh yes. But now I see this cannot be. I didn’t realize at first who you were. I’ve been expecting you for so long, so long.”

  Liam gazed intently at the old woman as she spoke. He kept blinking at her and squinting his eyes, as though he couldn’t see her properly in the flickering light.

  “But how could you have been expecting us?” Shallah asked in slow confusion.

  “My mother told me the story when I was a little girl, oh so long ago. I’d nearly forgotten. The story of the blind girl and the dark-skinned child; the child of the light and the woman who would guide him.”

  “A story?” Shallah felt as though her ears were filled with wool. She had to strain to make out the words.

  “You are traveling far, are you not?” the old woman said.

  “Very far,” Shallah replied.

  “And there is danger ahead.” The old woman looked off to the north.

  “No,” Shallah said sleepily. “Behind.”

  To this the old woman said nothing, only smiled knowingly.

  “You will not be hindered. You’ll find your way in the end. He will guide you.”

  “Who will?”

  “The child,” the old woman said simply, gesturing to Liam. Shallah tightened her hold on him, as though the old woman’s words implied some threat. Still frowning at the old woman’s face, Liam seemed not to have heard.

  “How could he?” Shallah said. “He’s only a boy.”

  “Oh that’s of no matter,” the old woman said gaily. “Age is of no consequence. He will save us.” She beckoned Liam to her. The boy didn’t move, but a moment later he jerked and his eyes widened. He stared at the old woman as though stunned. Across the hearth, she smiled then let her hand fall into her lap. “It was foretold,” she said.

  A sharp gust of wind shook the house, the hemlock branches waving above their heads. Liam climbed into Shallah’s lap, turning his face from the old woman, though out of the corner of his eye he watched her still. He watched her hands.

  “Foretold?” Shallah said.

  “He will lead us to safety,” the old woman said.

  “What was foretold?” Shallah asked, her brow creasing. It seemed the woman was purposely thwarting her by speaking in such vague terms. Why couldn’t she speak plainly?

  “There were three,” the old woman said. “My mother received them. A great woman my mother was, both wise and gay at once. The forest wept when she perished. She received them individually, in a bolt of light. S
truck her down, they did, brought her to her knees. Three times this happened, in the course of one day – three times she fell. And she wasn’t a young woman, oh no. She was already quite elderly, nearly ready to move on. But perhaps it had to be so. The old are closer to the other world, some already partly there, sharing both worlds at once.”

  The old woman nodded sagely.

  “She told no one for many years, for even her greatest friends didn’t know her true nature, and wouldn’t have understood. It was only as she lay dying and the air was full of the trees’ grief that she gave the knowledge over to me. And I still only a girl, for I’d come to her so late in life, a miracle child they’d called me. She told me that you would come one day, and that I should tell you what you needed to know. I have been waiting so very long.”

  For a moment the old woman held her head as though to demonstrate the hardship of having to wait so very long. But as Shallah couldn’t see and Liam was regarding her warily, her gesture had no effect. She peeked tentatively at the two of them through her gnarled fingers.

  “What were the three?” Shallah asked.

  “Prophecies,” the woman said, abandoning her pretence. “Three prophecies. It was unusual, of course, for one to receive all three, but her nature made it possible.”

  “Her nature?” Again Shallah felt a stab of irritation. Couldn’t she be clearer?

  “Her mother was tree, and her father part wolf. Somewhere on his own father’s side, I believe, though we were never quite sure. Wolves can be so secretive.” She dismissed all wolves with a flick of her hand.

  “I’m sorry,” Shallah said slowly. “Have I misunderstood you?”

  “It isn’t for you to understand.”

  “Your father was half –”

  “Please don’t let it trouble you.”

  Shallah closed her eyes and felt her questions flow away like so many leaves on the air. She felt that if she kept her eyes shut she might never fret again. It was a calming thought.

  “What were the three?” she asked again, though she wasn’t sure she would listen to the answer. Answers seemed so tedious.

  “The first I have already told you. There would be a dark skinned boy led by a sightless woman. The boy would lead us to safety.” Shallah nodded wobbly.

  “The second prophecy was to be conveyed to the dark trees of the north, and the third to the wolf chief in the western valley. They concerned the fates of those two races.”

  Shallah waited expectantly.

  “I can’t tell you what these prophecies foretold. It is not my right to do so,” the old woman said. “Only a knowing member of these races can pass the knowledge on, and then only if it so desires. It must be a willing conveyance.”

  “But you are part tree –”

  “I am much more than that,” the old woman said. “I can tell you this. All of the prophecies involve the boy. In one he is a protector, in another, a weapon. And of course, in our own, a saviour.”

  “Why do we need to be saved?” Shallah asked. “Aren’t we safe here?”

  “You came through the dead wood; you must have felt its pain. Soon it will all be that way. Even here in the lushest part of the wood … It pains me so to speak of it. Trees wither away. The animals are all going. There will be a great exodus. The wood doesn’t want us anymore.”

  A question occurred to Shallah but she hesitated to pronounce it, for the answer would affect all their lives. “Is the forest dying?” she asked.

  “We’ve sickened it with our presence. We’ve weakened it. But what will become of the people? They’ve nowhere to go.”

  “How can you know all this? You’re all alone here.”

  “I see much. I’ve been here so long I’ve become a part of it. When the leaves wither, I sicken, when the branches crack, so do I. I know the spirit of this place. I know its will.”

  “Come away with us,” Shallah said on impulse. “This forest has some strange power. You mustn’t stay here.”

  “I will stay,” the old woman said. “When all go, I will remain. Perhaps we will heal.”

  “We must be off,” Shallah said suddenly. A wave of dizziness hit her as she got to her feet and she had to steady herself. Liam handed her the satchel. He was just as eager to be away from this place as she.

  “Go,” the old woman said. “Don’t let the forest keep you. Go north and soon you will see your path. Remember what I have told you.” She pressed Shallah’s walking stick into her hand. “Seek the prophecies from those who would share them. You will survive.”

  Shallah bent low to pass through the door, pulling Liam behind her. As he passed out of the house, the little boy caught another glimpse of the carved cup clutched in the old woman’s hand. Carved into its side, in delicate curving lines, was his own face.

  Out in the open air, Shallah took a deep breath. The wind began to blow with more force. She took Liam in her arms and they began to pick their way back to the path. They didn’t make any farewells. The old woman had gone, Shallah could feel it. She’d vanished just as soon as they’d stepped over the threshold.

  Liam looked over Shallah’s shoulder as they walked away. The house could no longer be seen. The dark green hemlocks blended together, masking it from view.

  It was as though it had never been.

  Shallah walked speedily through the brush like she’d been this way a hundred times before. When at last they came to the path, she halted in her steps.

  “You will find him,” she heard the old woman say. Her voice was so clear, it was as though she was standing right behind them, but Shallah knew she wasn’t there. Her voice was everywhere. It came from close by and very far away. It came from all around. “You will find him,” it said again.

  Shallah hugged Liam to her. “Let us be gone,” she said.

  And soon they were.

  Chapter Eight

  Liam wasn’t afraid.

  Shallah was no longer herself. She swayed on her feet when she walked, and wouldn’t hold Liam’s hand. She seemed to have lost all sense of time. Sometimes she wanted to rest when they’d just made a stop, and other times she walked on for hours without taking a break. More than once she’d failed to take a turn in the path and wandered into the underbrush. But what bothered him most was her absolute silence.

  Shallah hadn’t spoken a word in days.

  But Liam wasn’t afraid.

  He led her down the path as she’d led him. He pressed fruit and bread into her hands at mealtime and tucked the blanket about her when it was time for sleep. He knew they had to keep moving, for only when they got around the hills would she go back to normal. That’s what the old woman had said. Liam wanted Shallah to go back to normal, but he also liked being in charge. He liked taking care of her. He liked her better than he’d ever liked anyone, except maybe one or two from before. But he didn’t like to think about before.

  He didn’t like to think about the old woman either, or the cup with his face. At moments, when he’d looked at her, he’d thought he could see right through her. He was sure this had been some trick the old woman had pulled. She was a crafty one. She was the first person he’d ever met who also knew what would come after. He’d felt her trying to tell him things when she’d beckoned him, but he’d closed his mind and refused to let her. Then he’d felt her stroking his cheek, although she hadn’t moved an inch. It had shocked him so much that he’d nearly opened his mind to her by accident.

  Liam didn’t think the old woman had any business touching him without her hands. That was nonsense. He had very little patience for nonsense.

  He watched over Shallah as she slept. She was even prettier when she was asleep. She didn’t have bad dreams the way he did, dreams about before and sometimes about after. Sometimes before and after got mixed up in the dream, and he didn’t know where he was. He knew he had to be careful of dreams because dreams could be confusing. Once he’d thought a dream had been telling him something about after but he’d been very, very wrong. It was upsetti
ng to be so wrong. Dreams were sneaky things and you had to be careful of them. He’d learned that lesson.

  It was after that worried him. He was getting the feeling that terrible things were going to happen, but he couldn’t make out what they were. He didn’t know when they would start, or when they would end. They might start any minute. They might start this very night. But Liam wasn’t afraid. He couldn’t be afraid. He had to look after Shallah and make sure nothing bad happened to her, because he was in charge. It was hard work, being in charge.

  He awoke to the fog. It was thick and lay low on the land so when he got to his feet, as Shallah slept on, he couldn’t see more than a few paces in front of him. When he reached out his hand it was like reaching into a void. He thought it was like reaching into time, reaching into after. It was an odd feeling.

  They’d slept in the bed of a dry ravine at the foot of a steep cliff. Liam had chosen to stop there the night before because the way ahead was very steep – a climb for morningtime. He didn’t really understand what it meant to go around the hills, but he thought they must be nearly there. They must be approaching the eastern path. He hoped so. He’d never known how lonely it was to be in charge.

  As hunger began to curl and snarl in his belly, Liam left Shallah’s side and climbed a little way up the path. He wanted to rise above the fog and look over the way they’d come. There wasn’t much movement in the forest below. He heard a crow calling and the wind licked at his ears. The fog blotted out most of the view, making the trees seem half as tall. He was disappointed, but he didn’t budge from his perch on the boulder. He didn’t know why, but he felt it was very important that he stay there, looking out. The mist swirled around the tree trunks. The branches creaked. He began to feel a little silly. Then he caught sight of something.