O-lay o-leee!
His heart leapt into his throat. Something had moved, back among the humble wood markers. Something shrouded rose up from one of the graves.
Leo tried to scream but had no voice.
Then he remembered.
“Rose Red!” The name came out more frightened than he liked, but his heart was still hammering so hard he could scarcely form the words. He staggered forward, tripping over a low stone, landing hard on his hands and knees but calling, “Rose Red! Rosie, wait!” By the time he’d righted himself, she’d vanished.
It was she, Leo knew it was. Just like when he’d first seen her in the woods, terrifying in all her veils, but still very much herself. “Rosie, please!” he called, hastening toward the grave by which she had knelt. He paused there to rub grass from his knees and realized with some embarrassment that he was still in his nightshirt and dressing gown. Drawing the gown more tightly about himself and feeling rather silly, he said in a lower voice, “Rosie, I know you’re here. I know how you are, disappearing when you’re angry at me. Please don’t be angry, though! I didn’t mean to be gone for so long, but the people back home wouldn’t let me come, and then I came and you were gone! I thought you had—”
He stopped, for his eyes, adjusting to the moonlight, were just able to make out the word carved across the grave marker: Mousehand.
Realization sank in, and his shoulders bowed at the weight of it. Of course, that made sense. Her “old dad” was the gardener; what an idiot he had been not to realize it! The gardener who did not see what other people saw. The gardener who had set Leo on the path to meet Rose Red.
The gardener who had chided Leo because, after a summer with her, he had still wanted to find the monster.
“I’m sorry, Rosie,” he said in a whisper, not expecting her to hear. “You’ve been all alone up here, haven’t you? No wonder you’re mad at me.”
“I ain’t mad at you, Leo.”
She appeared at his side. He’d forgotten how strange she was, all wrapped up in rags and her face covered; or perhaps when he was younger he simply hadn’t noticed. He couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through him at first sight of her. Then he put out a quick hand and took hers. He half expected to find himself on his back the next instant, with the breath knocked out of him. Instead, her tiny gloved fingers wrapped around his and gave a gentle squeeze. “I ain’t mad,” she repeated.
He turned and looked at her. She was scarcely any taller than when he’d last seen her, and seemed smaller still compared to the great height to which he had grown. Her body, which had always been thin, was wasted beneath its wrappings and rags. He shuddered again but said, “I’m glad. I’m glad I found you.”
“I’m glad you did too.” Her veiled head bowed and her fingers tightened before releasing his. “But I ain’t supposed to see you.”
“What? Why not?”
“It’s dangerous.”
“Dangerous for you?”
“Dangerous for you, Leo.”
His mouth went dry, but he forced himself to speak. “You couldn’t hurt me, Rosie.”
“Oh no, not me!” she exclaimed quickly. “I couldn’t hurt nobody. But, Leo, the monster—”
“There is no monster.” Leo’s voice was hard when he spoke, and he took a step away from her, folding his arms over his chest. “There is no monster, Rose Red. I saw the cave. I saw the reflection, and I know.”
“Then . . . then you didn’t see—”
“There is no monster, and that’s that!” His tone softened. “You’re living alone now, aren’t you?”
“I have Beana.”
“You’re starving.”
“I’m a little hungry.”
“You can’t stay up here, living like this.”
She shrugged. The wind blew down the mountain, tugging at her rags and veils, and she looked quite terrible standing there in the moonlight. Terrible yet frail. “I’ll get by.”
“You’ll die.”
“Maybe.”
Leo shook his head, grinding his teeth. An idea came to him in a flash, and he knew it was a bad one. But he couldn’t shake it and, the more he thought about it, the more he knew he must say it. “You need to come with me,” he said.
She did not answer but tilted her head at him.
“Back home, I mean,” he continued all in a rush, afraid that common sense would stop him if he didn’t say his piece now. “You need to leave the mountain and come back to my home, where I can make sure you don’t starve.”
“Oh, Leo!” she gasped.
“What?” he demanded irritably. “It’s not such a bad idea, and what do you have to keep you here now? I know how it is for you, Rosie. I know these people and their dragon-eaten superstitions. It won’t be like that for you where I live, and—”
“I cain’t come stay with you! I ain’t fit for that!”
“You can be my servant,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong with that, and I’m sure you’d be good at it. You can sweep and clean, and who’s to complain if I want to hire a chambermaid? It will all be perfectly appropriate, I promise you, and then I can keep an eye on you.” He warmed to this idea, and his voice was eager, despite the resistance he read all over her rigid body. “It would be a new start for you, Rosie. A new life. Look, you’ve got to get away from this place and—”
She shook her head violently. “Beana won’t let me leave the mountain.”
“Iubdan’s beard!” Leo barked. “She’s a goat ! You are going to die up here.”
“I cain’t leave. He . . . she . . . they won’t let me.”
“There is no one to stop you,” Leo said. “No one, you understand? Beana is a goat. Who else can tell you what to do?”
“The monster,” she whispered.
“No!” said Leo. “I told you, there is no monster, and I know it! I’ll protect you; I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’re not . . .” He didn’t finish but gnashed his teeth and drew a deep breath as he tried to compose his thoughts. “There’s nothing to keep you here, Rosie. Nothing but your own fears. Now, listen, I am leaving in just two weeks, and I don’t know when I’ll be able to return. I can’t just abandon you up here, knowing they’ll drive you out the moment you enter town, knowing they’ll leave you to starve in the forest.” He stepped forward, putting out his hands to her, though he dared not touch her. “Rosie, please. Let me help.”
He stood there with his hands in empty air, talking to no one.
Leo sighed and bowed his head. She was gone. Perhaps she had never been there, and he had dreamt it all out of his loneliness? The moonlight can play strange tricks on a fellow’s eyes, and he was tired. Very tired. The wind was cold on his neck, and Leo shivered as he left the graveyard and made his way back across the lawn. At the kitchen door he paused a moment and looked back out into the half-lit landscape, up to the forests above.
“Think about it, Rose Red,” he whispered. “That’s all I ask.”
5
SHE HAD NEVER FELT so trapped before. Not once, in all her years hiding away from the world, secluded and outcast, had Rose Red felt such a horrible sense of imprisonment. It ate at her for the next two weeks, like a cancer becoming ever more unbearable.
You had better not leave me, princess.
It was all in her mind, of course. Dreams couldn’t hurt her. But they could plague her day and night . . . and what if they were to come true?
She sat in the top of the grandfather tree, looking out across the sweep of her mountains, down to the tablelands far below. They looked so big. They looked so foreign. They looked like freedom.
“I cain’t go,” she whispered to herself.
I will make him pay.
“What if Leo were to suffer for helpin’ me? Folks up here are scared of me; why should folks down there be any different? I cain’t go with him. I cain’t!”
Stay with me, princess.
“Or can I?”
Stay with me.
She clung to the h
igh branches, swaying there above the world. And the voice in her head spoke with such venom, it was almost real. Rose Red closed her eyes and forced her mind to quiet, driving away all thoughts except the smell of the forest, the bite of the mountain wind through her rags and veils, the feel of sap running through her grasp. The dream voice slowly faded from her mind, and calm descended. Rose Red found herself able to climb down the tree, though her limbs trembled. Lack of food made her weaker every day.
Beana met her at the base of the tree, her yellow eyes full of worry. “You shouldn’t climb up there, Rosie girl,” she said. “One of these days you—”
“We’re goin’, Beana,” Rose Red said.
“What? Going where?”
“We’re leavin’ the mountain.”
Rose Red set off through the trees without a backward glance even when Beana’s “Baaaah!” rattled the air behind her. Her shoulders were set and her pace was firm as she began the descent to Hill House. She could only hope she wasn’t too late, that Leo hadn’t changed his mind.
Princess, stop!
“Rose Red, stop!”
She wouldn’t. If she did, she might never start again. But the goat trotted around in front of her, bleating and tearing at the earth with her sharp hooves. “What are you thinking, girl? I’ve told you countless times, you can’t leave the mountain!”
“I’ve got to, Beana.” The goat tried to block her path, but Rose Red pushed past her through the underbrush. Branches tore at her clothing as though the forest itself would restrain her if it could. “I’ve got to get away!”
“Get away to where?” Beana was nearly frantic. Rose Red had never heard her voice tremble so. But she kept on her way as fast as she could in her weakness, afraid her resolve would falter.
“Leo asked me,” she said, “to come to his house.”
“Iubdan’s beard!” the goat exclaimed, and this time when she blocked Rose Red, she was like a wall, forcing the girl to come to a halt. “You can’t go to the tablelands! I don’t care if the Eldest himself invited you.”
Rose Red’s heart was racing now, and she stood there breathing hard and twisting the end of her veil in her hands. The Dream’s voice roared in her head. The words it shouted were horrible, but she could hardly understand them for the roaring. But Beana was still standing before her, and she must speak.
“He . . . he wants me to be his servant,” she panted. “It’s good work, Beana.”
“I don’t care if he wants you to be a knight of the realm! You’re not going.”
You will stay with me!
She thought her head would explode. Pressing her fists to her temples, she shouted in her goat’s face, “Beana, I’ve got to get away. I’ve got to leave this mountain, to leave the monster.”
“Rosie, you know there is no monster. The folks up here are cruel and foolish, that’s all. You’re no—”
“You don’t understand!”
How could she understand? Beana couldn’t hear that fiery voice.
But she’s right, princess. You cannot leave the mountain. You cannot—
“You’re trying to trap me here,” Rose Red cried to the goat, to the Dream, to the whole mountain if it would listen. “You’ve got me so scared I can hardly think! Leo wants me to come away, to . . . to live. If I stay up here any longer, I’ll die.”
“I won’t let you die.”
The goat’s voice still trembled, but it was gentler. She put out her slender nose and nuzzled Rose Red’s hand. “I know you don’t trust me, my girl, but I wish you would. I can protect you. I can keep you safe, and I won’t let you die.”
I can keep you safe.
“But you must trust me. And you must stay up here in the mountains. Down lower . . .” Beana’s trembling increased and she twitched her nose as she considered her words. “Down lower, you will be much closer to the Wilderlands. And they are dangerous for you! This forest may seem frightening sometimes. It may seem wild and lonely.”
I won’t let you die.
“But it is as nothing to the Wilderlands,” the goat continued.
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Rose Red sighed. Her head throbbed with the ferocious voice of her Dream, and sweat slid down her neck beneath the veils. She was exhausted and couldn’t make herself think of things or places beyond her experience. All she knew was the mountain, the fear and hatred, and that Dream. Those things she knew with a certainty that could drive her wild . . . but she also knew Leo. She shook her head, and her breath came with difficulty.
“And it’s well that you don’t know,” Beana said. “I can keep you safe up here, but I don’t know that I can should we descend to the low country. Not that I wouldn’t try. I would try with all the grace and power granted me! I would die for you, my Rosie.”
I won’t let you die.
“But if I were dead, what good could I do you then? You’d be unprotected.” The goat nuzzled her again, the long lashes over her eyes fluttering delicately on her scruffy face. “So let’s not talk any more of going with Leo, of leaving the mountain. We’ll find a way to get by up here. We’ve done well enough up to now.”
Stay with me.
Rose Red gazed through the slit in her veil down at her friend.
Stay with me, princess.
Leo wanted her to come.
Rose Red put out her hands and, with strength that she did not know remained to her, shoved the goat out of her way. On down the mountain she continued, now at a run, though sticks and brambles lashed out at her and several times she nearly lost her footing. She could hear Beana right behind her, but she continued running as though pursued by hounds, making for Hill House.
A low branch snagged her veil and dragged it from her face.
Rose Red crumpled to the ground, her arms over her head, hiding herself from the forest and all its watching eyes. She curled up, tighter and tighter, making herself disappear.
See, princess? You cannot leave.
The Dream’s voice was softer now. Soothing and kind.
You were not meant to live in the world of mortals, of men. You are different. You are special.
She could feel him reaching out to her, could almost feel his hot breath blowing upon her neck, though she knew it was all in her mind.
You were always meant to be mine.
“Rosie!” Beana bleated, drawing up behind her.
Don’t leave the mountain.
This last came in the faintest whisper; then Beana trotted around and stood before her, the ragged veil dangling from her mouth. She dropped it in Rose Red’s lap and stood there watching as the girl carefully slid it back into place. “You’re quite determined, aren’t you?” Beana said, and her voice was heavy.
Rose Red checked the edges of the veil to be sure everything was as it should be. Then she nodded. “I’ve got to leave, Beana,” she whispered. “I’ve got to get off this mountain or . . . I know I will die.”
“It’s impossible!” Beana bleated. “It’s dragon-eaten foolishness, girl, and you don’t understand! It’s—”
Her voice trailed off suddenly amid a flood of silver music flowing down from the tree above.
Both goat and girl looked up, unable to see for the blinding sunlight through the branches. But they heard the lyric voice of the wood thrush throwing his heart to the sky in the joy of his song. And both their hearts lifted at the sound, though what else they may have heard—what words perhaps may have emerged out of the trilling tune—they could not have told each other for the world. It affected each of them differently. For Rose Red, that song drove out all the fire of the voice in her head, leaving her calm, allowing her to breathe fully again.
To Beana, the song gave peace. Peace she did not altogether want, but peace nonetheless. She bowed her head and drew a long breath. “If you must go, I cannot stop you,” she said. “I would if I could, but such is not my place. Let me give you something, though, child. Because I might be unable to protect you once we’ve gone to the low coun
try, let me give you something with which you may protect yourself. As long as I know you have it, I won’t be so afraid every time you’re out of my sight.”
Rose Red gave her goat a puzzled shrug. “What could you possibly have to give me?”
“It’s a name.”
“I’ve got a name. I’ve got the name my old dad gave me.”
“This isn’t your name. But it’s a powerful name, and one I want you to hold on to. Give me your ear, Rosie!”
The girl leaned forward, and the nanny goat whispered through the veil, “Keep it in your heart, my love, and treasure it down deep. And when you have need . . . it doesn’t matter when, or how, or what . . . if you have need of any kind, call on this name, and you will have help. I’ll give it to you in your own tongue, darling, though you may not understand it.”
Then she spoke a word, harsh and soft at the same time, which sounded odd coming from her goat mouth. The sound of it sank through the girl’s mind and flowed down to her heart, where it rested, strangely comforting.
Eshkhan.
Rose Red stood up, shaking her head. “Don’t be daft, Beana. I don’t need anythin’ silly like that to help me. I’ve got you, and I’ve got a strong constitution that has served me right enough so far. And I’ve got Leo. He promised he’d watch out for me, and I know he means it.” If there was a trace of desperation in her voice, only the goat heard it. She continued on down the mountain, Beana trailing behind her. “So you needn’t be tellin’ me Faerie stories to make me feel better. I’m a big girl and I can handle myself.”
“Suit yourself, child,” said the goat softly. “But you know it, and that’s all I care about for now.”
They progressed through the forest in silence, passing by the creek, neither one looking at the trail that led back to their cottage. They would not walk that path again. After all, Rose Red owned nothing that she might take with her. All that remained were memories, many of them painful now. So they said nothing but continued across the creek and down to the deer trail, neither speaking.