Tree Spirits

Chapter One



“Perrin!”

I love when Mom calls my name, or says anything for that matter. She has this incredibly melodic voice. She doesn’t simply talk, she sings. After seventeen years, I sometimes think I should be used to it. But every time she speaks, I still imagine a bluebird alighting on each shoulder and accompanying her in three-part harmony.

She stands in front of the hearth ladling into a wooden bowl a glob of oatmeal from a large pot simmering over the fire.

“Breakfast is ready.” A beautiful tune in the key of C, I think.

“Coming,” I mumble, yawning. I didn’t sleep much again last night. Tomorrow is a big day, but something about it makes me uneasy. Weird dreams wake me in a cold sweat. It's been a month now. I get the sense they’re related to tomorrow, but can’t seem to remember anything about them.

I get up, throw my clothes on over my long johns, and step to the table. Ilse is still asleep, curled up into a ball with her blanket thrown to one side.

“Morning Perrin. How did you sleep?” Mom asks.

I throw my hands toward the warm fire and rub them together.

“Oh, just fine. Like a log.”

Like a log with insomnia would be more accurate.

I sit down on one of the two wooden benches that line opposite sides of the table.

“Are you ready for tomorrow, dear?” That doesn’t quite sound like Mom. Her voice is in a minor key all of the sudden. It happens more and more lately when she asks me about tomorrow.

She sets the bowl and a wooden spoon on the table in front of me and heads back to the pot of oatmeal. Her long, blonde double braids swing behind her.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Not that there’s anything to get ready for. It’s just a day off the way I look at it.” I scoop a bite of oatmeal into my mouth. I wish I could convince myself of that. Maybe the tinge of melancholy in Mom’s voice is a mother’s intuition that she knows something is bothering me. More specifically, something about tomorrow.

“Yes it is. I just wish you would come back safe.” She smiles, but her eyes are sad like the timbre of her voice.

That wasn’t very encouraging. It almost sounded as if she doesn’t expect me to. As if she wanted to say, I just wish you 'could' come back safe. Why would she say that? I start to ask, but she leans over the table, takes my chin in her hand, and gives it a gentle shake. Her hand is too soft for a thirty-seven year old woman living in this wilderness.

“You have quite the beard there,” she says and the smile returns to her lips and her green eyes. Maybe I just imagined her dour mood. And if she wants to call a sparse patch of hair on the end of my chin a beard, then okay, I’ll go with that.

Mom seems back to normal and that eases my anxiety, which fades in the glow of her presence.

“Thanks. I’ll try not to get lost, which seems pretty impossible with Dad leading the group.”

As if on cue, Dad pushes to the side the deerskin curtain hanging in the entrance. He's carrying a bucket of water from the river. He’s a big man with a booming voice. Tall and broad-shouldered, his muscles have muscles on them. The four reddish-blond braids on either side of his face swing in rhythm like tiny ropes as he plops down at the table opposite me and sets the bucket on it.

Does he ever sleep? He’s always coming in the house in the morning. Besides grabbing buckets of water from the river, what does he do outside before the sun comes up? I’m not really a morning person, so I’ve never been that curious to find out.

“Ah, Per!” he rumbles. “’Bout time you got up.”

“It’s Perrin, Dad. And good morning to you, too.”

“So, Per my boy, are you ready for tomorrow?”

“Uh, what’s to get ready for? We've been hunting a million times.”

His stare gives me a chill. Why did I say that? If he asks if I'm ready to chop my arm off and use it to prop up the table, I better say, yes sir. I jam my spoon into my bowl and keep my eyes on my oatmeal.

“Why, it’s the biggest day of the year and you have to have all your wits about you!”

"Yes, I know. Midsummer’s Day. The summer solstice. My first chance to go on the Midsummer's Day hunt, now that I'm seventeen. I become a man tomorrow. I get it." I rub my face in my hands. "To celebrate this milestone, I get to tromp into the forest before the birds wake up with thirty or so men, laugh, drink, and have a good time." I stifle a laugh. "I'm not sure why you call it a hunt, since not much actual hunting goes on, if any. I imagine it'll be so loud there won't be a deer, bear, fox, rabbit, or squirrel within five hundred paces of us."

"Don't be disrespectful of tradition, Per," Dad says.

"Come on, Dad. Have my wits about me? The worst thing that could happen is getting an arrow in the rear from someone who had a bit too much to drink."

Dad scowls, but doesn't reply.

Mom sets wooden cups in front of Dad and me. I plunge mine into the bucket, draw out cold, fresh water and take a big drink. Dad does the same, drains his cup, and sets it on the table.

"Story time," he says.

"Not this again," I wince.

"Yessir. It's tradition the day before the hunt."

He takes a deep breath and I rest my elbows on the table, my head in my hands.

“Me, Anselm, and Malk were all on our first hunt that year. What was it?" He closes one eye and pulls his beard. "Twenty years ago tomorrow. Those two were the closest of friends, much as you and Keel. As is tradition, we all had our first sips of fruit wine that day. I suspect maybe Anselm and Malk had a bit too much.” The unsaid words are written on his stern face.

"Okay, one sip of wine. Got it." My head sinks in my hands.

“It was getting close to midday and we were taking a rest on our way back to the village," Dad continues. "Last I saw the two of them, Malk was standing not twenty paces away from me talking to Anselm, who was sitting against a nearby tree. One minute they were there, the next they were gone. I figured they went behind a tree to relieve themselves because that wine will go right through you. I never thought another thing of it until we got back to the village and everyone realized they weren’t with us.”

Dad shakes his head and strokes the three long braids that descend from his beard. "Anselm was mauled by a bear, best we can figure."

"We know." My head dips further.

“Malk comes bursting out of the forest two weeks later like a ghost was chasing him, ashy-faced, arms stretched out in front, weaving as if he didn’t quite know where he was going. I'll never forget his glazed eyes. He never looked into anyone else's again. Died three years later, face down in the icy river one blisteringly cold morning right before the snows came."

"That's fascinating." I pull my head up before it falls into my oatmeal and grab my spoon.

“Anselm was probably ripped to shreds right in front of Malk. We never found any sign of him."

I shovel another bite of oatmeal into my mouth and mumble, "Is it over yet?"

Dad sighs deeply. “You see your best friend torn into pieces right in front of you and I reckon that’s plenty of reason to never want to look anyone in the eye again. Or talk. Or live. That’s why I tell you, Per, keep your wits about you tomorrow. I’ll keep an eye on you, though.” He gives Mom a wink.

My uneasiness returns in a rush.

Mom eyes Dad with an expression I can’t read and puts a spoon in front of him with his bowl of oatmeal. She isn't much taller than he is when he's sitting down, and standing next to him, her thin frame makes his appear even wider.

Dad leans over his oatmeal and shovels in a few bites.

“Ilse!” he shouts as if she’s down in Treeholm.

Ilse rolls over, stretches her arms out, arches her back like a cat and yawns as if she’s singing the lead in the village Founder’s Day play.

“Time to get up, girl,” Dad says.

I finish the last bite of oatmeal as Ilse sits next to me. Quite a few rogue hairs have escaped the blonde braids on either side of her head and jut out in all directions.

"Time to eat," Dad says. "You don't want to be puny all your life, do you?"

"You mean like Mom?" Ilse glares at Dad.

"Do you two have to do this every morning?" I ask.

"Ha!" Dad bellows. "You two looked like twins until last year."

"Well, now I look more like you," I say.

"You wish," Ilse says.

"I'm more than a head taller than you."

"And Dad's still half a head over you."

"I kind of liked having twins." Dad laughs.

"That's funny." I say. "I'm two years older than her."

"Couldn't tell it." Dad slaps my shoulder and winks.

"Don't you listen to them," Mom says to me. "You are a tall, strong young man, like your father."

"Thanks, Mom." I make a face at Ilse.

"Morning, Ilse.” Mom slides a bowl of oatmeal in front of her.

"Morning, Mom." Ilse rubs her eyes before digging in.

“How did you sleep, dear?” Mom asks.

“Okay when Perrin wasn’t talking in his sleep.”

"What sleep? I wasn’t asleep five minutes last night."

"You could have fooled me."

“And what did I say?”

“I don’t know. Lots of things. I remember once you said you again? I also heard you're so beautiful.

“Well, I wasn’t talking to you, that’s for sure.” I snicker.

Ilse smacks me in the chest with one hand while spooning oatmeal into her mouth with the other.

Is that true? Did I really say those things? What else did I say?

“Must have been dreaming about Brina again,” Dad says, a generous smile broadens across his face.

“Ha! Funny, Dad. Good one.” I’ve had enough of this conversation. The last thing I want to do is discuss Brina with my family.

I couldn't have been dreaming about Brina. I wouldn't have said you again? as if I were surprised to see her. Who was I talking too? Does it have something to do with tomorrow? Another wave of uneasiness flows over me as I get up and head for the entryway.

“Don’t forget to help your knucklehead friend with the goats this morning before you head to the river, lover boy,” Dad shouts.

The laughter of Mom, Ilse, and Dad, as well as my unease, follow me as I walk away from the house.



Chapter Two



Beyond the round stone houses with thatched roofs that all look the same, I catch up to Keel east of the village, near the edge of the forest. He's playing dodge the rocks with two younger boys who are learning how to milk the goats. I'm glad the moon will be full in a few days and we can rotate to a different chore. I'm sick of milking goats.

Keel lobs a rock at one of the boys that misses by an arm's length. He has excellent aim, so he’s not trying to hit the boy.

“Nice. Did your mom teach you to throw like that?” I jog toward the three of them.

“Hey Per.” He brushes his hair out of his face. “No, my mom taught me this.” A stone bounces off my shin.

“Ow!” I wince. “What does your mom think of you coming home with a black eye, tree rot?”

“She thinks you have to catch me first, frog lips.”

I chase after him but my throbbing shin slows me down. The boys laugh. He hurdles a large boulder and his foot catches the tip, causing him to somersault twice when he hits the ground before hopping up on one foot.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow! Damil's blood that hurt.”

“It looked like it.” I chuckle as I stop to rub my shin.

"Can somebody tell me why we live in this rotten valley?" Keel shouts into the air.

"You mean because it's filled with hundreds of rocks that jut up through the ground like some giant underneath us decided to poke holes through the earth with them and didn’t know when to stop?" I laugh. "It's not my fault you've tripped on every one of them."

"Who hasn't?"

I glance at the scar on my knee. "Hey, it was good enough for Damil Var, wasn't it?"

"If it was good enough for Perrin's great many grandfather, it's good enough for me." Keel mimics his dad.

"You sound like my dad."

"I sound like everyone's dad." Keel sits on a rock and takes his boot off. "If I hear that one more time, I'm going down to the river to drown myself. But these people love it here. Look at this place. It snows six months out of the year. The valley is so steep I think one of my legs is longer than the other. God knows nothing edible grows in this soil. Rocks everywhere. What was Damil thinking?"

"Don't look at me. Who am I to question five centuries of lunacy." I sit next to him, rubbing my shin.

"You think you look like him?"

"Who"

"Damil."

"I think after five hundred years, about two drops of his blood made it to me."

"You don't want to leave, though."

I glance at him, shaking my head.

"You and Brina. The next generation of Norshire. Damil Var lives on." He pumps a fist in the air.

I shove his shoulder. “Funny. Is the toe broken?”

“Don’t think so,” he says through clenched teeth and wiggles it with his fingers.

“That’s a shame. For a minute I thought you were trying to get out of the hunt tomorrow.”

“Wouldn’t miss my journey into manhood for the world,” he says with a grimace. “Hiking through the woods with three dozen smelly men, feet swollen, hungry, legs tired from walking for hours . . . it doesn’t get much better than that.”

We both laugh as we nurse our injuries.

“Did you get the goats milked?” I ask.

“Got one left, saved her for you.” He sits on a rock. “Brownie over there almost took my head off this morning,” he points to a light brown goat, aptly named, eating the green summer grass. “She must have had a bad night, because she wasn’t too happy to see me.”

"I know how she feels,” I say with a grin. “So who’s left?”

“Snowball.” he points to the white goat grazing near the edge of the forest.

“I’ll get her, then.” I grab a bucket next to where the two boys sit. They're laughing and joking about Keel’s rock-hurdling skills.

“Don’t you two have anything better to do?” I ask.

”Don’t you?” Arn says. They glance at each other and laugh some more.

"A couple of ten-year-old funny guys, huh?" I take a quick step and reach out, pretending to grab at them. They scream, jump up, and stumble back.

“Get this milk to the village.” I chuckle.

They step with caution, eyeing me for any more sudden movements, grab a bucket of milk each, and start toward the village. Arn turns around after they’ve gone four or five steps. “My sister says you stink worse than a billy goat.”

Wyal slaps Arn on the shoulder as they both break out in wild laughter.

“I'll tell Brina what a great brother she used to have after I kill you, tree rot.” I take a few quick steps in their direction.

Both run, yelling as if a bear is chasing them, trying not to spill too much milk.

“Come back here and get the rest of these buckets when you’ve dropped those off or I’ll wash your hair in goat manure next time I catch you.”

They spout a few comments about how I couldn’t catch a sleeping turtle.

“We could use them for fish bait,” Keel laughs.

“What fish would want to eat them?”

We both chuckle.





“Hey there, girl,” I say, patting Snowball on the side. I crouch to place the bucket beneath her when something catches my eye at the edge of the forest, just before Snowball’s body blocks my line of sight. I jump up and scan the woods. Nothing but the gentle sway of branches in the breeze. I glimpse at Keel. He’s perched on the rock watching several teenage girls gathering water from the river below.

Was that a person? A girl? Petite with a long mane of hair. It couldn't have been.

One more peek. No girl, only tall trees with massive trunks.

I kneel, set the bucket down and rub my thumb and forefinger across my eyebrows hoping to erase the image, then begin milking Snowball. I can’t shake the unease, though, and continue to steal glances into the forest from underneath the goat.

When done, sure it was my imagination, I look one more time; she’s there.

I jump to a crouch and prop my back against Snowball’s side. The goat doesn’t seem to sense anything at all. I slide up and peer over my shoulder. She’s still there. This time she waves me to her with a slender arm. I jerk my head back, slide to a crouch again, close my eyes, and throw my head back against Snowball's side. My breathing and pulse quicken. Either I’m going crazy or someone, or something, just waved me to them. No, someone. It was a girl.

I remain frozen in place a few seconds, which seem like hours. Keel is still watching the girls at the river.

Why doesn't Snowball notice her? The goat hasn't moved. She should sense someone is there, shouldn’t she?

I take several deep breaths and tap the back of my head against Snowball’s side a few times. My head pounds with the beat of my heart. I’m not sure if I want her to be there to confirm I'm seeing something, or not to be there so I can convince myself it was all in my head.

I slide up Snowball’s back, my eyes shut tight, my lips move in a silent prayer that this is a dream and Mom is going to call me to breakfast and give me a bowl of oatmeal any minute now. I peak around. Not only is she there, she gives me two short urgent waves this time.

My mind whirls a million paces a minute and my heart is trying to keep up. I slide back down into a crouch against Snowball and close my eyes.

She can't be real.

“Hey,” Keel says. “What are you doing, holding the goat up so she doesn’t tip over?” He shakes his head and smiles. He must think I've lost my mind. Maybe I have.

I break out in hysterical laughter at the absurdity of the last few minutes. Keel chuckles and says, “It wasn’t that funny.” That makes me laugh harder and my shoulders shake. I point behind me with my thumb, unable to stop laughing.

“What did she do, kick you in the head or something?”

I slide down, shake my head, and sit on the ground. I wipe tears from my eyes. It did me some good to laugh. It takes me a minute to compose myself and Keel is there standing over me.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” he asks.

“Oh, yes. Never better.”

I lean my head against Snowball. Keel sits down beside me, takes his boot off and rubs his injured toe.

“So what is it?”

I rub my eyes with the heel of my hands, then gaze at the sky.

“I have to tell you something and I may be nuts, but just listen.”

“Well, you are nuts, but I’m all ears.” He rubs his toe. It's a little red, but not swollen.

“I haven’t slept well in a month, and when I do, I have these weird dreams I can’t remember. They have something to do with the hunt tomorrow.”

I sense his eyes on me, but continue my upward gaze. It’s easier that way.

“Don’t ask me how because I don’t know myself. It’s a feeling I can’t get rid of. Then Ilse tells me this morning I was talking in my sleep last night and said something like, you again? and, you're so beautiful.

“So you’re supposed to meet someone you don’t know in the woods tomorrow, but you've seen her in your dreams and she’s really good looking? Is that it?” He’s trying to sound serious. At least he’s not laughing.

“How do I know? And that doesn’t make any sense. There can’t be a girl living in the forest. If there were, I doubt she’d be very good looking.”

“I’ll agree with that,” Keel says. “Anybody living in those woods is probably ugly enough to scare away the bears.” He laughs, but cuts it short, probably because I’m not laughing with him.

“Okay, so it’s some bad dreams then. I wouldn’t lose any more sleep over it, if I were you.”

“That’s not the strangest part.”

“So what is?”

“I think I saw someone in the forest a few minutes ago.”

“What?” Keel jumps up and peers over Snowball’s back, hopping on one foot, trying to slide his boot onto the other as he scans the trees. “Who? Where? The girl in your dreams, you mean?”

“I think so, but it was so quick it could have been a shadow or a squirrel or something.”

“Yeah, but maybe it wasn’t. Come on. Where’d you see her?” He finally gets his boot on and sprints around Snowball.

I shake my head, scramble to my feet, and follow him, sure we aren’t going to find her, if she were ever there.

“Where did you see her?”

“Right here, next to that tree.” I point to the tree in front of him.

We both circle it, but I find nothing to indicate anyone was there a few minutes ago. I didn’t expect to.

“Hey!” Keel shouts into the forest. “Who are you?”

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m seeing if she’s still here somewhere.”

“If she is still here, if she ever were, I am one hundred percent sure she isn’t going to step out from behind a tree, wave at us and say, here I am, you tree rot.”

“Well, let’s go find her then, mush brain.” He starts into the woods.

“We can’t go into the forest without an adult.” It’s true, one of the strictest rules in the village.

“We’ll be adults tomorrow. I think your dad will let one day slide, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t. The only thing sliding will be his shoe across my backside if he catches us in there.”

“All right, all right,” he says. “It’s probably all in your head anyway.” He stomps past me and calls over his shoulder, “In fact, if we see a beautiful girl in the forest tomorrow, I’ll do all the milking for the rest of the month.”

“There’s only three more days until the next full moon.”

“Well, I’m not a complete idiot,” he says, and we both laugh.

“It’s a bet,” I say. “Now let’s get these buckets because I'm sure the silly twins aren’t coming back.”

"Hey," Keel's eyes light up. "Maybe the stories about dwarves in the forest are real. Maybe she was a dwarf."

"There's no such thing as a dwarf. What are you, six?"

"You never know." He shrugs.

"I know. Anybody knows those are only stories. And besides, I've never heard of a female dwarf, have you?"

"Nope. Never have. You're right. Dwarves aren't real."

“You know,” I say as we pick up two buckets each, “Snowball didn’t flinch when I saw whatever it was I thought I saw. She didn’t flick an ear. I’m sure it was my imagination.”

“Yeah, must have been, Per.” Keel agrees.

But the knots in my gut tell me it wasn’t.



Chapter Three



I saunter between the small homes, down the steep v-shaped valley to join the other teenagers gathered by the river, my chores done for the day. Today the wind isn’t so bad and the sun shines bright. The river looks inviting, but even in mid-summer, it’s too cold to go in, unless it’s bath time.

Keel shouts from behind as I'm halfway down the hill. “Hey, wait up.”

He jogs after me and throws his arm around my shoulder, knocking me forward a few steps.

“So how’s Ilse?” he asks, nonchalant.

"You tell me. You're the one in love with her."

"Funny." He slaps my shoulder.

"What happened to that girl you spent half the day with in Aarnston last month?"

"You mean the one who wouldn't leave me alone?"

"Yeah, her."

"Who knows? I finally got away from her. It wasn't easy." He laughs and shakes his head.

"Well, there're plenty of other girls in Aarnston and Gronsburg. The pickings are a little slim in Treeholm."

"Yeah, like here."

"You mean except for Brina, right?"

"Sure thing, Per. She's as pretty as they come." He squeezes the back of my neck.

"And Ilse?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

"She's fifteen. I'm not interested in her."

"Sure you're not." I smack him on the chest with the back of my hand. "Maybe you'll find someone at the find-your-mate festival in Gronsburg next week."

"Find-your-mate festival?" Keel laughs. "You mean the Summer Festival? Where'd you come up with that name?"

"That's what it is, isn't it? Girls hoping to find a husband to take them away from Norshire, which I don't understand. Besides being so remote, isolated, and cold, it has everything." I spread my arms wide and grin.

"You need help."

"And the guys are hoping to find that special girl and drag her back here kicking and screaming."

"Deven almost got one in Aarnston last month. Did you see her? She was taller than he was."

I have to stop because I'm laughing so hard. "She and Ox would be perfect for each other."

That sets both of us into a laughing fit.

When we gain control of ourselves, Keel says, "I'm not really looking anyway. I don't think I'm ready to settle down yet."

"Yeah, it would be better to wait until Ilse's old enough to marry."

"You don't quit, do you?" Keel slaps the back of my head.

"Just calling it as I see it."

Keel catches the toe of his boot on a rock and grimaces.

"Same toe"

"Yeah" His limp returns.

"Hey, Ilse asked about you this morning.”

“Sure she did.” A half smile spreads across his face before he wipes it off and furrows his brow. “Did she really? What’d she say?”

“She was wondering when you were finally going to kiss her because she’s tired of playing hard to get.”

Keel stops and stares at me. “Funny, Per. As if I would kiss your sister. She’s too young, you tree rot!”

He can’t hide his flushed cheeks from me.





The riverbank is full of activity. Younger kids race around, throwing rocks into the river and at each other, jumping off boulders, yelling, screaming and play-fighting. Teens are working on wrestling and sparring skills or playing tackle-the-guy-with-the-stick. Girls cluster in groups, gossiping and re-braiding each other's hair. I spot Ilse sitting with Mika and Sinsy, her two best friends.

“Don’t keep her waiting, my friend,” I say with a smile.

“Enough already,” he says. “But I do have to go. I need to talk to Hadl about a knife he wanted to give me for tomorrow.”

Hadl Jorr is conveniently standing behind Ilse and her friends.

“Sure you do. Have fun, lover boy.”

He shakes his head and takes off in that direction.

“See you later, Per,” he says, not looking back.

“It’s Perrin,” I shout after him.

I start down to the river for a quick drink before considering what kind of fun I can get into when out of the corner of my eye I see her. Brina. Ah Brina. Just saying her name in my head brings a picture of cherubs circling, strumming romantic love songs on their harps. It’s always three. Not two, not four. I have no idea why.

Her honey-gold hair, pulled back behind cute ears into two long braids, adds to her beauty. She looks grown up, more than her seventeen years. Green eyes match the summer grass. They glow almost yellow when our eyes meet. I love the way they do that when she's happy, as opposed to turning deeper green when she’s sad. Her tight vest hugs her like I want to and her slight curves push her clothes out in all the right places.

Oh Brina. Keep strumming those harps, boys.

“Hi Per.” She flashes her straight teeth. Not something I see much of in this village.

The name Per sounds like a sweet song when Brina says it. When anyone else does, it grates on my nerves like a knfe scraping down a boulder.

“Hi Brina.” I walk to her with a quickened pulse and stars in my eyes. I try not to show it too much.

“Hey there, Per.”

Ouch! What was that? Oh, it’s Alida. My fierce heartbeat slows and the stars in my eyes scurry for the hills. When did she show up? And why is she always attached to Brina like a joined twin? Sure, she's Brina’s best friend, but do they have to go everywhere together? She’s cute, I’ll give her that, a bit taller and curvier than Brina with wavy brown hair that hangs to her knees. But let’s face it, next to Brina, this girl might as well be my grandmother.

Can we get a doctor over here to separate these two?

“Hello, Alida,” I say, gazing into Brina’s green-yellow pools of heaven. I block Alida out as I say to Brina, “I saw these amazing, bright blue stones in the river by the shore yesterday while fishing. I’d love to show them to you.” I point more or less in the direction of the river, away from the crowded bank.

“Really! Let’s go,” Alida says, before Brina can respond.

Where is that doctor? This is an emergency!

It doesn’t matter because another of my favorite voices rings out from behind.

“Well, well. Hey there Per.”

Deven.

He says my name in his usual condescending tone, as if I’m not good enough to breathe the same air he does. He thinks he has that right because he's bullied me since we could crawl. Always much bigger than Keel and I, he never hesitated to use that advantage. I've ended up on the wrong side of his fist more times than I can count.

We stand eye to eye. He's not bigger than me anymore. It irks me that my beard looks like cat whiskers next to his, though.

"Hey Dev." I mimic his condescending tone. "That mustache is coming in nicely. It's almost as thick as Enna Wixx's."

"Look who's talking. At least I have one." His blond braids are messy, like a bird has been picking at them. His thick, bushy eyebrows meet in the middle as if he’s balancing a broom on his forehead.

“Good. That's good. How are you and your shadows doing today?” I ask.

Arral and Ox stand behind Deven. Arral is pint-sized, a clear head and a half shorter than Deven and me, although he and I were about the same size last year. He wipes a few strands of wispy red hair from his face. His eyes bug out a bit and his ears stick out too far to the sides. He wears his usual smile, full of crooked teeth jutting in all directions. His upper lip has disappeared again, showing every bit of his gum.

"Hey there, Horse Mouth," I say.

"Don't call me that," he says.

Brina and Alida suppress giggles.

Ox lays a big mitt on Arral's shoulder and shakes it. Has he grown since yesterday? He's already the biggest person I've ever seen, although at sixteen he probably hasn't finished growing. He's bigger than Dad. We nicknamed him Ox, but I've heard him referred to as Yeti a few times by those from other villages. Only his mother calls him by his name, Anx.

"Shut your mouth, Per," Deven says.

"And if I don't, you're going to make me, right?" I have no fear of Deven anymore.

"I'd be glad to." Devin clenches his teeth.

"Like at the Ring competition during the Spring Festival?" I ask.

"You got lucky," his face is turning red. "I've never lost in the Ring."

"You did this year." I smile at him.

"That's enough," Brina says. "No fighting, remember? Let's just go, Per."

She grabs my arm, but I ease it from her grip.

"It was right about here, wasn't it?" I point my finger to the ground and walk in a wide circle. "Yeah. right here."

"Perrin―"

"Wait a minute, Bri." I hold a hand out to stop her. "There were what, twelve in the Ring to start? Didn't take us long to toss everyone out, though, did it Dev?"

His hands curl into fists and veins surface on his neck.

"Came down to you and me, didn't it? Come on Dev, it wasn't that long ago. After being holed up for six months of winter, it was good to get out and throw some people out of the Ring, wasn't it?"

"You can stop now," says Alida.

I ignore her. I'm concentrating on the rage building in Deven.

"What else is the Spring Festival for anyway? Three days of eating, drinking, dancing, singing, and competitions wouldn't be the same without you winning the Ring, would it?"

"You're lucky your dad's been teaching you all those fighting techniques since you were little," Arral says, stepping up beside Deven and pointing at me.

"They didn't do me much good until this year. Except on you, of course."

Arral scowls.

"Never worked on you before, did they big guy?" I stick my chin out at Deven, who snarls. "Oh, that's right. You're not a big guy anymore, are you? Not to me, you aren't."

"Keep it up and I'll smash in your face." Deven finally says. "I don't care who's watching."

He glances up the hill. Onor Wylik is perched on a boulder wiping his brow. It's his day to watch us. Mostly because of the younger ones, but also to make sure none of us teens decide to fight or sneak away to steal kisses when nobody’s watching.

"I can still hear the crowd cheering when I threw you out."

Deven starts for me, but Ox grabs his shoulders.

"Get off me," Deven shrugs himself free.

"No fighting," Ox says.

Deven eyes him as if Ox were next in line to get a pounding after me.

"Can you guys please change the subject," Brina said. "Or else we're leaving, Per." She puts her arm around Alida, who glares at me.

"Guess we'll see you later, Dev," I say. "Not much else to talk about, is there?"

Deven snarls. "So, are you going to stay here with the rest of the women tomorrow, making cheese and knitting shirts?”

“Well, Dev, I was planning on that, but your mom said I had to go with you to fight off that squirrel looking to get his tail back.” I point to his eyebrows.

Deven’s face turns red again and his hands curl into fists.

Horse Mouth laughs, but staggers back and lets out an "oof" when Deven backhands him in the chest. Deven closes the gap between us in flash, grabs my shirt with one hand, and draws the other back, blind fury in his eyes.

Brina and Alida scream in unison.

I grab the hand holding my vest with both hands and twist it hard and fast. He grimaces as his body follows the momentum of his wrist. He lands on his back with a thud. I drop to my rear, scoot into his side, his arm between my legs. One leg drops over his chest, the other over his face. Still twisting his wrist, I lie back onto my shoulders and lift my hips, putting him in a deep arm bar.

“Ahhh,” he cries.

I lift a little more and he lets out a slight whimper. If I pull down on his arm and raise my hips, I’ll break it.

“Perrin!”

I arch my neck and peer up the hill. Onor is lumbering upside down toward us frowning under close-set eyes. Two long, thin braids on either side of his face swing back and forth. He's breathing hard as he reaches us. Maybe if he ran up and down the hill every day he wouldn't be so heavy.

“Let him go, boy.” He wheezes, puts his hands on his hips, and tries to catch his breath.

I release Deven’s arm, swing my legs over my head and jump to my feet, giving Brina a quick wink.

She scrunches her face, arms crossed, and shakes her head.

“We were just having a bit of fun," I say. "Weren’t we, Dev.”

Deven crawls to his feet and clutches his left arm, bending and straightening it, a grimace on his face. With a scowl, he stomps over to Ox and Horse Mouth. Both are gaping at their leader’s humiliation.

“Don’t let it happen again, son,” Onor says and starts to plod back up the hill.

Brina rushes to me, finger pointing.

"Sorry, Bri." I grasp her finger and pull her close. "I promise it won't happen again."

Her scowl disappears, she bats her long lashes, and a smile stretches across her face. Yellow flakes dance in her green eyes. Alida is there too, stuck to her side.

Forget the doctor. Just get my axe. I’ll do this myself!