Chapter 8: Brian Returns Alone (Revised)

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[This is a revision of this earlier post.  I also created a Gemini Storybook version of this chapter which I was hoping to take some ideas from, but in the end I found nothing useful from this particular Gemini Storybook.]

Chapter 8: Brian Returns Alone

It was dawn.  Carlyle, Aflred and Margaret were still in bed, but Catherine couldn’t sleep.  She sat by the fire and tended to it quietly, stoking it, but trying to avoid making any noise that would awaken the others.

  While she stoked the fires, Catherine’s thoughts drifted.  It was now two days since she had visited the Witches’ Coven.  The past two days had passed without incident.  Margaret had done the cooking and cleaning in the house, while the teenagers had gone out to meet their friends on the mountainside.  Catherine had not attempted to go off by herself again, and there had been no more quarrels between her and Carlyle. 

And yet, Catherine was still troubled.  She still had this feeling that an energy was growing inside of her.  It felt like an alien power, something that was not natural to her body.

Yesterday, she had been out with Alfred and Carlye and their friends, and she had felt it rise up inside her.  It had started gradually, but it had gotten bigger and bigger, until she had felt like she had this great energy inside of her that had to be released.  So she had decided to try the herb that her mother had given.  Discreetly, when the attention of the group had been distracted by one of the fights, she had brought the herb up to her mouth and had taken just the tiniest little nibble of it, and swallowed. It had made her feel immediately sick.  She ran over to the bushes to vomit and this, of course, had attracted everyone’s attention.  So much for being discreet.

“Catherine, are you okay?” Molly had asked.  

“I’m fine,” Catherine had managed to say rather weakly.  “I think it was something I ate.”

It had been embarrassing, no doubt about it, even though Catherine always tried to pretend that she didn’t care what the rest of the group thought of her.  

But the herb had also seemed to work.  The feeling inside of her had gone away.  It felt like she had killed the growing energy inside her.  It felt like she had killed it with the poison, but it also felt like she had poisoned herself.  

Catherine continued stirring the fire.  The fire didn’t even need stirring at this point, but Catherine’s mind was elsewhere.  Her mind kept returning to the conversation she had had with the witch.  “If magic isn’t used,” the witch had said, “it will leak out in unexpected ways.”  That’s what it felt like was happening to her.  Something was trying to leak out of her.

Catherine had been watching her mother very closely the past couple of days, to try to see if there was anything in her mother’s behavior she had missed over the years--to see if there was any magic that might be leaking out of Margaret.  But she had not seen Margaret do anything that indicated any magic abilities.  Except… except that it was so strange that Margaret had known exactly what herb to use to kill the energy.  How did Margaret know these things if she wasn’t magical herself?

While Catherine was still deep in thought, contemplating all of these things, there was a loud thump at the door which startled her.  Her hands involuntarily jerked backwards.  

“It’s alright.  That’ll be father,” said Alfred. Catherine hadn’t realized that Alfred was also awake, but Alfred was wide awake and already scrambling out of bed.  “It’s been five days already,” he said.

The thump at the door was repeated.  “It’s me,” said the voice.  “Open up.”

Carlyle and Margaret were beginning to wake up now as well.  Carlyle was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he stood up.  Margaret was sitting on the edge of her bed and putting on her boots.  Catherine undid the latch, and pulled open the door.  Brian was standing in the doorway.  Finn was nowhere in sight.

There seemed to be something wrong with Brian.  He looked paler than usual. 

“Where’s Margaret?” he asked.

“Father, are you alright?” Alfred asked.

“Margaret.” Brian repeated

“I’m here,” Margaret said.  She was now out of bed and walking towards the door.  “What’s wrong?  Where’s Finn?”

Brian did not reply immediately.  Catherine noticed for the first time that his shirt was covered in blood.

Margaret noticed the blood at the same time.  “Where’s Finn?” Margaret asked again, the tone of her voice was higher this time.

“I’m sorry, Margaret,” Brian said

Margaret breathed in sharply, resulting in a gasping sound.  

Catherine stepped towards Brian.  “What’s wrong?” she asked.  Somewhere inside of her, Catherine already knew what was wrong.  But she needed to hear Brian say it in order for her brain to fully process it.

Brian looked absolutely miserable. He looked at Margaret first, to see if Margaret was going to give him any signals.  But Margaret was still in shock, so Brian looked back at Catherine.  “Catherine, your father is dead.  I’m so sorry.”

Carlyle was at the door now as well.  “Where is he?” Carlyle demanded.

“He’s dead,” Brian repeated.

“Let me see him,” Carlyle said.

“He’s still on the mountain road,” said Brian.  “I had to leave him by the cart.   I was wounded myself, and I was too weak to carry his body.”

Carlyle bolted out the door and started running down the mountain slope.

“Stop,” Brian called.  “It’s not safe yet.  They’re still out there.”

Catherine ran after Carlyle, and lastly Alfred ran after them both.  All three ran down the mountainside.

“Wait!” Brian called out again. But they did not listen.

Carlyle did not want to believe what Brian had told them.  He hoped that Brian was mistaken, and that his father was not really dead.  And that is why he ran as fast as he could.  He desperately wanted to find his father still alive.

When you are running down a mountain slope, it isn’t hard to go fast.  The problem is that you can easily go too fast, lose your footing, and fall down on your face.  But for teenagers who have grown up on the mountain slopes, this seldom happens.  They learn at a young age how to handle the mountain slope--how to leap and spring, and land, and balance on your feet to keep from falling.  Carlyle ran with all the agility of one who had been raised on the mountains.  His feet glided down the mountain as he pushed himself to run faster and faster.  He leaped over rocks and fallen trees and any other obstacle on the slope without losing his stride.  And Catherine and Alfred were right behind him the whole way.

In no time at all, they had reached the mouth of the mountain trail.  They ran down the trail.  A huge tree had fallen over and was blocking their path.  Carlyle leaped over it without even pausing.  Catherine and Alfred did the same.

Various rock formations emerged from the mountain, and the trail twisted and turned as it winded its way around them.  But as Carlyle came around one of the corners, he saw it.

Carlyle’s heart sank.  They were too late.  The wolves were already circling the body of his father.  In the mountains, it never took long for a dead body to attract the scavenging animals.  And now, Carlyle wished he had stopped to take some weapons.  “Begone,” Carlyle shouted as he approached the wolves.  “You have no claim to that body.”

The wolves turned toward Carlyle, but it was obvious they had no intention of obeying him.  They snarled, and crouched as if preparing to pounce on Carlyle.  

Catherine then came around the corner.  She saw Carlyle, Finn’s body, and the wolves, and in an instant she knew what was happening.  In that moment, she had no time to process any emotions.  She simply had to act.  “Begone,” she yelled at the wolves.  “That body belongs to us.”  

At the sound of Catherine’s voice, the wolves immediately stopped growling. They stopped focusing on Carlyle, and looked over at Catherine.  They seemed surprised to see her.  “Begone, I say,” Catherine repeated.  And the wolves ran away.  Carlyle thought this was strange, but for the moment he did not ask Catherine any questions.  His mind was too preoccupied with his father’s body.  

Carlyle knelt down beside the body.  Once he saw the body up close, there was no doubt that Finn was indeed dead.  The warmth had already left the body.  There was no pulse.  And there was a huge wound in the chest, where Finn had been stabbed.

Both Carlyle and Catherine were too shocked to speak.  Neither of them had ever contemplated the possibility that Finn could die. 

Of course, Finn was very old, and of course, they knew that the mountains were dangerous.  But they were young, and like all young people, they viewed the world through the illusion of permanency.  Finn had always been there, so it seemed that Finn would always be there.

It was Alfred who found the presence of mind to speak first.  “The thieves took everything,” he said.  “All the supplies are gone from the cart.  But at least they left behind the cart.  We can use it to pull his body up the slope.”

The cart had been turned over and was lying on its side.  Carlyle and Alfred turned it rightside up again.  Carlyle, still numb with shock, was silent the whole time.    

“Help me lift his body,” said Alfred.  “We need to put it in the cart.”

“Where’s his sword,” Catherine said.  “He needs his sword with him.”

“His sword is gone,” said Alfred.  “The thieves took it.  Of course.  They wouldn’t leave anything as valuable as a sword just laying around.”

Catherine and Carlyle both stopped moving.  They seemed to have difficulty absorbing this information.  “He used that sword to kill the ogre,” said Carlye.

“He used that sword to fight the werewolves,” said Catherine.  “That sword was his most prized possession.  It was his identity.”

“He doesn’t need it anymore,” Alfred said gently.  “We need to get him into the cart and get him back up the mountain before the wolves come back.”

“They won’t come back,” Catherine said quietly.  And once again, Alfred and Carlyle were too preoccupied with the dead body to wonder about what she meant.

Carlyle, Catherine and Alfred lifted Finn’s body up, and put it in the cart. Then they pulled the cart up the path.

Margaret met them before they got to the top of the mountain.  She had come down to find them.  She carried an axe with her as her weapon.  Her eyes were red.  “That was foolish of you to run off like that,” she said without emotion.  “But you’ve done good to recover his body.  It wouldn’t have done to let the wolves eat him.”

Together, they all got the cart back to the house.  They took out Finn’s body, brought it inside, and laid it on the table.

Margaret shook her head, and let out a small sob.  She covered her mouth with her hands, and then when she regained her composure, she said sadly, “For fifteen years we’ve lived in these cursed mountains, and we’ve fought off all manner of beasts and monsters.  If he had just lived for a few more years…”  Her voice trailed off.

“What killed him?” asked Carlyle.

“It was one of the robber gangs,” Brian answered.  “They were waiting in ambush.  We tried to fight, but there were just too many of them.”

Brian was grimacing in pain while he spoke, and Margaret suddenly remembered.  “We need to see to your wound,” she said.

“I’d appreciate it if you did,” said Brian.

“Sit down on the bed,” Margaret commanded.  “Catherine, go get my thread and needle.  And boil some water.”  Margaret turned back to Brian.  “Where are you hurt?” she asked.

“They stabbed me in my side,” Brian answered.  “It doesn’t feel too deep, but…”

“I’ll look at it,” Margaret said.  Having a task to do seemed to rejuvenate her.  She moved now with a sense of purpose.  Brian obediently went towards the bed.  Margaret noticed Carlyle and Alfred standing idly by.  “You two, go and chop some wood,” she said.  “We’ll need a funeral pyre.”

Nobody got a burial in the mountains.  Much of the mountain slope was covered in rocks, and stones, and even for the parts that were covered in dirt, the dirt was often frozen by the cold weather.  And even if you could dig a proper grave, the freshly dead body wouldn’t stay in the ground for long before creatures dug it up and devoured it.  So the mountain folk burned their dead on wooden pyres.

Carlyle took the ax from the house, and went outside with Alfred.  They walked down the slope to one of the clumps of trees.  

Carlyle knelt down in front of the tree, and raised his hands up.  He remembered the words that Finn used to recite.  “Forgive me, for what I am about to do,” Carlyle called out to the tree.  “I must do this to survive.  If there are any spirits or other beings who have made this tree their home, tell me now in order that I may not harm you unknowingly.”  

“What are you doing?” asked Alfred.

“This was father’s way,” explained Carlyle.  “He always said this before he cut down any trees.  He wouldn’t have wanted me to cut down his funeral pyre without saying these words first.”

Alfred swallowed the rest of his questions, and let Carlyle continue.  “If there are any spirits or nymphs in this tree,” Carlyle continued, “I beg your forgiveness.  I declare that I am ignorant of any beings who live in this tree.”  Then, he stood up, and began to chop at the base of the tree.

***********************************************

Gemini Storybook created some images for this chapter. In the case of this chapter, the images that Gemini Storybook created are different enough from the original text that I'm not going to bother uploading them here. You can view them here if you wish. You can see that they are certainly inspired by this chapter, but at the same time they are depicting different events.

Chapter 7: The Age of the Gods (Revised)

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[This is a revision of this earlier post.  I also created a Gemini Storybook version of this chapter which I was hoping to take some ideas from, but in the end I found nothing useful from this particular Gemini Storybook.]

Chapter 7: The Age of the Gods

Catherine managed to rejoin the group just as things were breaking up, and Carlyle and Alfred were starting to head home.

“There you are!” said Carlyle.  “Where did you go this time?”

“None of your concern,” Catherine said as she strode past. Catherine went right past Carlyle, and kept walking towards their home.  

Because Catherine was walking at a swift pace, Carlyle and Alfred jogged to catch up with her.  “Catherine, you can’t wander off by yourself like that,” Carlyle insisted.  “You know it’s dangerous.”

Catherine remained silent and kept walking.

“Catherine, I’m serious.  This is twice now.”

“I’ll handle myself, thank you,” Catherine replied.

“I’m going to tell Mom and Dad,” Carlyle blurted out.

Catherine stopped walking and turned to glare at Carlyle.  There was an unspoken code between the siblings that they never report on each other.  After glaring at Carlyle for a few seconds, Catherine started walking again.  “Fine,” she spat out.  “Fine, go ahead.  You can tell them whatever you want.”

In the tone of Catherine’s voice, there was an unspoken message: if you report on me, you will be dead to me forever.  Carlyle picked up on the tone, and he realized he had gone too far.  “Catherine, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.  Catherine, wait!”

Catherine had picked up her pace, and Carlyle had to jog to catch up again.  “Catherine, stop a minute.  I shouldn’t have said that.  I won’t tell Mom and Dad.  But you can’t go off on your own like that.  You remember what happened to Jack.”

Catherine kept walking.  She wanted to tell Carlyle to be quiet and mind his own business, but she was too tired to argue with him.  So she found it easier to keep quiet and keep walking.

Soon they reached the door.  They knocked, and Margaret let them in.

As she got dinner ready, Margaret could tell that there was tension in the air.  Carlyle and Catherine weren’t talking to each other, and Alfred looked like he wasn’t sure what to say.

Carlyle and Alfred sat by the fire, but Catherine seemed unusually eager to volunteer.  She helped Margaret chop up vegetables for the stew, and as they stood next to each other, Catherine asked abruptly, “Where did you learn so much about medicine?”

“I told you yesterday,” said Margaret.  “I studied it.”

“Who did you study it from?” asked Catherine. 

“No one you would know,” said Margaret casually.

“Why wouldn’t I know them?” asked Catherine.

Margaret stopped chopping her vegetables, and looked at Catherine.  “Why so many questions?” she asked.

Catherine stopped chopping as well, and looked back at her mother.  “Why do you never answer?” she retorted.

Margaret stared at Catherine for a moment as if she was thinking about how to respond.  Then Margaret went back to chopping the vegetables.  “You wouldn’t know my teacher because she died before you were born.  And also because she didn’t live in the mountains.”

“Where did she live?” asked Catherine.

“Hmmm?” asked Margaret, pretending not to hear.

“I asked where she lived.”

Margaret stopped chopping again.  “Catherine, why does it matter?  You wouldn’t know her anyway.  It was someone from my past who has no connection to you.”

“Some people think it’s unusual,” Catherine persisted.  “You know things that no one else does.”

Margaret smiled.  “Maybe I know some things that the mountain people don’t know.  But the world is a very big place.  Your father and I have lived in many places and we’ve learned many things.”

“Then why do you live on the mountains now?” said Catherine.

“Catherine, so many questions!” Margaret exclaimed in an exasperated tone.  “You tire me out!  Be quiet for a while and help me stir the stew.”

Catherine knew this was supposed to signal an end to the conversation.  But she had decided that tonight she wasn’t going to be dismissed so easily.  The witch had told her that she needed to get answers from her mother, so Catherine tried again.  “Mother, what happened to me yesterday?”

Margaret again acted like she didn’t hear.  She looked over at the fire.  “The fire is going to die out,” she said.  “Carlyle, Alfred, go out and gather some dry branches.  Hurry, before it gets too dark out.”

Carlyle and Alfred got up and went outside.  Once the door had shut, Margaret turned back to Catherine.  “Nothing happened to you yesterday.”

“But Alfred’s arms--”

“You and Alfred had a fight, and you must have grabbed his arms a little bit too tightly.  His arms were a bit bruised, but nothing more.  Honestly, if he hadn’t been crying so much, I wouldn’t even have bothered treating it.  Catherine, I know you’re upset about what happened, but Alfred understands you didn’t mean it.  You just don’t know your own strength, that’s all.  The best thing for you to do is to stay out of fights entirely in the future.  Don’t fight Alfred again.  Don’t fight any of the children on this mountain again.  Now quit asking so many questions, and go ahead and start boiling the water.”

One more try, Catherine told herself. 

“Mother, sometimes I feel like…,” Catherine began and then stopped.  She didn’t know exactly how to put it into words what she felt, and it was difficult to find the courage to try to express herself when she could feel the disapproving gaze of her mother.  But she forced herself to blurt it out.  “I feel like sometimes there’s an energy inside of me I can’t control.”

Catherine expected her mother to tell her again to be quiet or to stop asking questions.  But instead, Margaret simply looked at her with a scrutinizing gaze.  “Wait one second,” Margaret said.

Just then, the door opened, and Carlyle and Alfred walked back in.  “That’s not enough branches!” Margaret said sharply.  “It’s going to be a cold night.  Go out again!”

Alfred and Carlyle went back out.

As soon as they left, Margaret went to her shelves at the back wall of the cave.  After rummaging around for a bit, she found what she was looking for, and came back with a herb.  “Be careful with this,” she said, as she handed the herb over to Catherine.  “It’s poisonous.  If you eat the whole thing, it will kill you.  But in small doses, it could help you.  Whenever you feel like there’s something inside of you that you can control, just take a small bite.  The tiniest little nibble, you understand?  No more than this.”  With the tips of her front teeth, Margaret bit off a tiny part of the herb to demonstrate, but then immediately spat it out.  “The herb is very bitter.  It will taste awful, and it will make you sick to your stomach.  It may even make you throw up.  But it will temporarily get rid of that extra energy.”

“But what’s wrong with me?” asked Catherine.

“It’s nothing,” said Margaret.  “Sometimes people feel a bit strange when they’re growing up.  It’s part of being a teenager, at least for some people.  But just the same, don’t tell anyone else about it.  You don't want other people to find out about these things.  It’s embarrassing.  They might make fun of you.” 

The door opened again, and Carlyle and Alfred came back in.  

“Enough now, let’s have no more talking about it,” hissed Margaret quickly.  Catherine knew from her tone that the conversation was definitely closed.

“These are all the branches we could find,” said Carlyle.  “There’s nothing else without moving away from the house, and that’s not safe this time of night.”

“It’s not,” Margaret agreed.  “Stack it up by the fire, you two.  Then sit down for dinner.”

After the dinner was finished, Margaret suggested they read another chapter from the book.  She thought that this might be the best way to dissipate whatever tension was there.  She brought the book down and gave it to Carlyle

“I want to hear more about The Age of Monsters,” said Alfred.  “You said that after all the heroes got killed, some of the humans still survived.  Can you read that part?”

“There are lots of chapters about that,” said Carlyle.

“It’s best to read the section in order,” Margaret suggested.  “You can start with the second chapter, right after what you read yesterday.”

“Okay,” said Carlyle, sitting down in the chair and finding the right place in the book.

Alfred settled into the opposite chair.  Catherine remained standing stiffly by the fire.  Margaret knew better than to suggest that Catherine sit down.  Catherine would sit when she was ready to sit.

“It was in this time that the Teritha, the ancient monsters, roamed the world, and all the human cities were destroyed.  All the human crops were destroyed as well, and humans lived like the animals did. They scavenged for food in the forests, and in the rivers.  They ate whatever plants they could find.  In their desperation, many humans resorted to eating animals again, and humans and animals once again became enemies.”

“Why does it say ‘once again’?” asked Alfred.  “Were humans and animals enemies before?”

“Yes, during the Second Age, the Age of Beasts,” Carlyle said.  “We skipped that part because you wanted to start at the Age of Monsters.”

“Well, what happened in the Age of Beasts?” asked Alfred.

Catherine sighed audibly.  She was getting frustrated with Alfred and his questions.  But she didn’t say anything.

“Loads of stuff,” Carlyle replied. “It was a whole age.  Each age contains many different stories in it.  But basically, when humans and animals were first created, they were constantly fighting.  Humans ate animals, and some of the animals ate humans.  There were years of war between humans and beasts before peace was made, and the laws were established.”

“But the wolves and bears still eat humans,” said Alfred.

“The mountains are a special case,” interjected Margaret.  “There is no one to enforce the laws in the mountains.  But in the forest, the ancient laws are still enforced.  It is forbidden for a human to harm an animal, or for an animal to eat a human.”

“Really?” Alfred’s eyes widened.  “So you mean in the forest, I could walk anywhere I wanted to, and I wouldn’t have to worry about bears or wolves or lions or anything?”

Margaret nodded.

“I want to hear more about The Age of the Beasts,” said Alfred.  “Could you read that section?”

Catherine sighed again, and plopped herself down into a chair with an air of frustration.  Carlyle and Alfred ignored her.  Margaret thought this was progress.  If Catherine was annoyed at Alfred, then at least she was no longer thinking about whatever had been upsetting her earlier.

“It’s a very long section,” said Carlyle.  “We can’t read it all in one night.”

“Maybe we should start from the very beginning,” Alfred said.  “What was the first Age called again?”

“The Age of the Gods was the first age,” said Carlyle.  “We could start there if you like, but you're only going to be staying here three more nights until your father gets back.  It’s not enough time to read the whole book through from the beginning.  We should just choose the most interesting parts for now.”

 “Is The Age of the Gods interesting?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty interesting.  There are no humans or animals in that section, but there is lots of fighting among the gods.”

“Well then start there,” said Alfred.

“Good idea,” said Margaret.  “Some of the best stories are at the beginning.  And Alfred, if you like, we can continue the book even after your father gets back.  You can come over every afternoon.  I’ll teach you how to read the book for yourself.”

Catherine groaned again.  Everyone ignored her.

“I don’t need to read it myself,” Alfred said.  “You can just read it to me.”

“As you like,” said Margaret, with a smile.  “Carlyle, why don’t you start reading again.  From the very beginning this time.”

“Okay,” said Carlyle, flipping back to the beginning of the book.  “In the beginning, there was the Ocean.  He was the first god, and he covered the whole world.  At that time, there was no land, only deep water.”

“Where did Ocean come from?” asked Alfred.

“I don’t know,” said Carlyle.  “It’s not in the book.”

“No one knows,” Margaret said softly.  

“But he must have come from somewhere,” Alfred insisted.

“In the beginning, there was the Ocean.  That’s all it says,” said Carlyle.  “That’s how the story begins.”

“Don’t we know anything about where Ocean came from?” asked Alfred.

“Alfred, stop asking questions,” Catherine said, exasperated.  “It’s just a story.  Every story has to begin at some point.”

“Is it just a story?” Alfred said, looking at Margaret.  “I thought the gods were real.”

Margaret shrugged her shoulders.  “These are the stories the ancient ones have left us with.  They may be true or they may not be true.  Or they may be partially true. But these are the only stories we have about the beginning of things.  So we study them, and then pass them on. Where the Ocean came from, or what existed before the Ocean, we cannot say.”

“Alfred, just be quiet for a while.  You can ask questions after the story finishes,” Catherine said.  She motioned for Carlyle to start reading again.  Her impatience was visible on her face, but Margaret noticed that she was also starting to look more relaxed in the chair.  She was reclining in it, and she had begun to put her feet up on the table.

“We can talk about the stories tomorrow, if you like,” Margaret said to Alfred.  “For now, let’s just listen.”

Carlyle began to read the story again.  He read about the ancient Sea Dragons, that the Ocean gave birth to, and how the Ocean next gave birth to the new gods, who fought the Sea Dragons and slew them, and used the bodies of the sea dragons to create the land.

The fire crackled as Carlyle read, and the warmth filled the room.  And eventually, Catherine and Alfred began to relax, and then slowly nod off to sleep.  And Margaret smiled approvingly.

************************************

Gemini Storybook created some images for this chapter. In the case of this chapter, the images that Gemini Storybook created are different enough from the original text that I'm not going to bother uploading them here. You can view them here if you wish. You can see that they are certainly inspired by this chapter, but at the same time they are depicting different events.

Chapter 6: Catherine Asks for Help (Revised)

Google: docs, pub

[This is a revision of this earlier post.  I also created a Gemini Storybook version of this chapter which I was hoping to take some ideas from, but in the end I found nothing useful from this particular Gemini Storybook.]

Chapter 6: Catherine Asks for Help

The night passed without incident, and in the morning Margaret served breakfast to the three teenagers.

As they sat at the table and ate their bread and stew, Margaret asked to see Alfred’s arms.

“My arms don’t hurt at all,” Alfred said cheerfully.  “Whatever you put in that salve, it really helped.”

Margaret smiled.  “I do what I can,” she said.  “I know you’re feeling better, but I’m going to put on a bit more of the salve.”

“Okay,” Alfred said.

“And Alfred, we should get you a new shirt before you go outside.  The sleeves on your shirt are ruined.”

“It’s okay,” said Alfred.  “I don’t think it’s going to be so cold today.”

“Yes,” said Margaret, “but you don’t want to walk around with your bandages showing.  Think of all the questions your friends will ask you.”

“I don’t mind,” said Alfred.  “I’ll tell them all how you healed me.”

“If you tell everyone the whole story, then you’ll have to tell them how you couldn’t beat Catherine in a fight,” Carlyle reminded Alfred.

Alfred was silent as he contemplated this.

“I’m sure it was just a little quarrel between the two of you,” said Margaret.  “Quarrels like this are just best forgotten about.  The rest of your friends don’t need to hear about the little fight or your injury.”

“I guess not,” said Alfred.  Alfred was momentarily quiet, as he thought about yesterday, and then he turned suddenly to Catherine.  “Hey, Catherine, what happened yesterday anyway?”

Catherine just looked down at her breakfast and did not answer.

“The important thing,” said Margaret in a firm voice, “is that whatever happened yesterday is over, and that your arms are healed now.  Don’t fight each other in the future, and it won’t happen again.”

“But it was so strange,” said Alfred.

“Alfred, eat your breakfast,” said Margaret.  “And don’t think about it anymore.”

They finished their breakfast, and then asked permission to go out.  

“Stay together, as always,” said Margaret.  “And remember, if you see even one goblin out, come home immediately.  Don’t wait for more to gather.”

“We won’t,” said Carlyle.

“It’s best if you stick with your group of friends,” said Margarat.  “They can tell you if they’ve seen any creatures out today.”

“We will,” said Carlyle.   

They went out to try to find their friends, and they found a group of teenagers assembling on a rocky part of the mountainside near the woods.  They immediately recognized their group of friends.  

First there were the boys.  Shawn was the leader of the group.  He was tall, confident and had bright brown eyes and brown hair.  Next to Shawn was Paul, who was the one all the girls loved the most because of his good looks.  Besides Paul was Marcus, who was generally regarded as the most intelligent boy of the group. Kevin, who was the best fighter, was next to Marcus.  And last was Lucas, who the rest of the group always regarded with some caution due to his erratic behavior.

Not far away from the boys, the girls were sitting and talking to each other.  Stella was the most beautiful of the girls.  Gabrielle was the smartest one, but also the most sarcastic.  Lucinda was the most athletic of the girls, and the best in a fight.  Molly was the most talkative, and Abby was famous in the group for flirting with all the boys.

“Look who it is!” Shawn called out as they approached.  “Where have you three been?”

“Oh, you know us,” Alfred shouted back.  “We’ve been here, there and everywhere.  What are you guys up to?”

“Nothing yet,” Shawn replied.

“We’re thinking about starting some wrestling matches,” said Kevin.  “Do you want to join?”

“Not today,” said Alfred.  “I’m resting my arms.”

Gabrielle burst out laughing when she heard this.  “Resting your arms?”  From the tone of Gabrielle’s voice, it was evident she found this a ridiculous thing to say.

“I can rest my arms if I want to,” said Alfred.

“Alfred, nobody has ever used that excuse before,” Gabrielle insisted.  

Alfred gave Gabrielle a shrug of the shoulders in reply, and then looked away from her to indicate that the subject was dropped.

But Lucas wouldn’t let him drop it.  “It’s no good,” said Lucas.  “If you want to rest your arms, you can stay home.  If you come here, you have to fight.”

“Since when?” asked Alfed.  “I can rest if I want to.”

“Go and keep the old women company!” spat out Lucas, and he advanced toward Alfred.  But before he got near Alfred, Carlyle launched himself at Lucas and tackled him around the waist.  Lucas was knocked off of his feet, but even as he fell backwards, he started swinging his fists and hitting Carlyle.  The two of them landed on the rocky ground, with Caryle on top. Carlyle started immediately swinging his fists at Lucas’s face.  Carlyle was able to land a couple of good blows before Lucas brought his feet up against Carlyle’s chest, and used his legs to push Carlyle back.  In the brief moment that Carlyle was pushed backwards, Lucas leapt to his feet.  Both Carlyle and Lucas looked at each other for a brief moment, and then they rushed forward to fight again.

By this time, a circle had formed around the two combatants, and everyone was cheering and yelling advice.  

Molly was the first one to notice someone was missing.  “Wait a minute,” she said.  “Where did Catherine go?  Did she disappear again?”

***********************************************************************************

As soon as the fighting had started, Catherine had stepped into the trees and disappeared.  

Catherine didn’t even glance around to make sure no one was looking at her.  She knew that at the beginning of a fight, everyone’s eyes would be drawn to the combatants. 

None of them had any authority over her, but there was a standard rule in the mountains against wandering off by yourself.  They would certainly have tried to stop her, if any of them had noticed.  

Although Catherine and her family lived near the tree line, there were still large parts of the mountainside that were covered with woods.  At this elevation, the woods were mostly pine trees.  They gave off a sharp piney smell that hung on the cold mountain air.  There was no clear path through the trees in this part of the mountain, so Catherine made her way as best she could.  Sometimes she headed down the mountain slightly, but mostly she headed east.  She had been this way a few times before, so she had a vague idea of where she was going. 

Catherine, of course, knew very well the dangers of wandering around in the mountains.  People who got separated from their group were vulnerable to getting captured or eaten.  A few years ago, a member of their group, a boy named Jack, had gone for a walk by himself, and had never come back. But at the moment, Catherine wanted answers more than she was worried about the danger.

And it wasn’t long before the danger came.  At first, it was just a sense that something somewhere in the woods was moving.  Then after a while Catherine thought she saw little glimpses of movement off in the distance.  And eventually, she realized that a pack of wolves was tracking her movement.

Even though Catherine had known this mountain was dangerous, the realization that the wolves were closing in on her still gave her a sinking feeling in her stomach. Despite the cold, her forehead started to sweat.  But she kept walking steadily.  She didn’t want to show that she was afraid.

As she walked, Catherine began to scan the ground for anything that she could use.  Eventually she saw a large branch lying on the ground.  She picked it up.  It wasn’t much, but any weapon would be better than nothing.

Catherine kept walking.  The wolves kept getting closer and closer.  They were closing in.  Soon, she felt their presence on all sides.  One of them stood directly in front of her.  It had bright white fur, and black eyes.  It bared its teeth and growled.  “What’s a little girl like you doing all alone in these woods?” it said.

“Walking peacefully, and troubling no one,” Catherine answered.  Her heart was beating fast, but she tried to hide her fear.  

“You are troubling us,” the white wolf answered.  “These are our woods.  Anyone who enters must pay a price.”

“And we are very hungry today,” came the voice of another wolf behind Catherine.

Catherine raised her hand and held the branch up.

“Do you expect to scare us away with that?” asked the white wolf.  “We’ll tear your arm off before you can strike a single blow.”  The wolf spoke in a growly tone, and Catherine shivered when she heard the menace in its voice.  She felt the shiver travel down her spine, and up into her arms.  And then, the shiver passed from her arms into her hands, and from her hand into the branch, and then, with a sudden popping noise, the branch burst into flame.  

The wolves were startled, and every one of them jumped back suddenly.  Catherine was equally startled, and she almost dropped the branch out of surprise.  But somehow, she retained the presence of mind to keep holding on to it.  She didn’t know what exactly had happened, but she knew that this was the same power that had hurt Alfred yesterday.  Something was happening to her that she couldn’t control, and it scared her.  Her heart beat even faster.  And as her heart beat faster, the energy flowed throughout her body, and she could feel even more of it leaving her body and going into the branch.  The fire grew bigger, until it engulfed the whole branch.  The flames shot up into the air.  It seemed strange that one branch could produce so much fire.  And yet, even more strangely, Catherine’s hand was not hurt by the fire, even though it was also covered in the flames. 

The wolves were now cowering before her, but the white wolf slunk cautiously back up to Catherine.  “Are you one of them?” he asked.  “We thought we knew all of them, but we have not seen you before.”

“I want to join them,” said Catherine.

This answer seemed to confuse the wolves.  They looked at each other, and then the white wolf tried to clarify with a second question.  “Are you under their protection?” he asked.

“I journey through these woods with their permission,” said Catherine.  “I am under my own protection.”

It was a small lie, but it did the trick nicely.  The wolves bowed their heads toward the ground.  Their tails were tucked between their legs.  “You should have told us,” said the white wolf, but now his tone was conciliatory, not accusatory.  “We would never attack one of them.”

“We will not trouble you again,” said another wolf.

And the wolves scattered.

Catherine stood frozen, still holding the flaming branch, until the wolves had disappeared out of sight.  Only then did she feel the relief wash over her. 

But what then to do about the flaming branch?  Catherine tried to will the fire to go out, but it would not.  Apparently she had the power to start the fire, but not to put it out.  Eventually she dropped the branch on the ground, and was only able to extinguish the flame by covering it with dirt.

Catherine’s thoughts returned to the small lie she had told about permission.  In truth, she did not have permission, she only had toleration.  That is, they knew she had come before, and they had not explicitly forbidden her from coming again.   

The last time she had come, they had seen her.  Catherine had been too afraid to come forward at first, and had been hiding behind the trees.  But one of them had seen Catherine, and had made eye-contact with her right before they all went back into their cave.  Catherine had rushed forward once she had realized they were all going inside, but it had been too late.  They had all disappeared into their cave, and Catherine knew that it would be foolish, perilous really, to go into their cave without being invited.  So she had waited outside for them to come out again.  She had waited several hours, but they hadn’t come back outside.  And then eventually Catherine had to leave and return home.  It would have been fatal to have been caught outside after sunset.

This time, however, Catherine promised herself that no matter what happened, she would talk to them.  She had to know.  She couldn’t handle not knowing any longer.

The path to their cave was a little bit tricky.  It was on another slope on the mountain range, so to get to it, Catherine had to go down the slope for a while, until she reached one of the troughs and the mountain began to rise again.  Then she walked up the woods on the other side.

As Catherine walked up the mountain slope, she came upon a bobcat that was just about to devour a raven.  Catherine didn’t know how the bobcat had caught the raven, but she guessed it had snuck up and pounced on the poor bird when it wasn’t looking.  The bobcat had pinned the raven’s wings to the ground with its claws, and it was about to chomp down on the bird’s head.

Catherine knew that she shouldn’t get involved.  Finn’s number one rule was not to get involved in anything in the mountains that didn’t immediately concern you.  But she couldn’t stand idly by and watch the bird be killed.  She ran up and kicked the bobcat.

The bobcat snarled as it was lifted into the air by Catherine’s boots.  Once it landed, it regarded Catherine furiously.  “Who are you?” it demanded.

“Leave the birds alone,” said Catherine.  “Find some other food.”

The bobcat was one of the smaller varieties.  It was just a little bigger than a typical house cat, but it still hissed, and ran forward as if it were going to attack.  Even though it was small, its sharp teeth and claws could have done Catherine some damage, but just then the raven flew over and started pecking the bobcat on the top of its head.  The bobcat snarled again and turned around as it tried to catch the raven, but the raven kept just out of reach of the cat.  Finally, the cat gave up and ran away.

The raven then flew to a tree branch nearby and looked at Catherine curiously.  “Why did you save me?” he asked.

“I didn’t want to see you get eaten,” Catherine said.

“But no one in the mountains ever bothers with helping others,” the bird.  “Why does it concern you?”  

Catherine shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I guess I just felt sorry for you.”

The bird bowed its head in gratitude.  “My name,” it said, “is Branoc.  You have earned my eternal thanks.  If there’s ever anything I can do for you, just whistle for me.”  Branoc whistled a little tune.  “Can you remember it?”

Catherine whistled the tune back.

“Good,” said the raven.  “Whistle that song whenever you need my help.  I fly all around these mountains, and I hear and see many things.  If you whistle long and loud enough, I or my children will be sure to hear it.”

And then the bird flew away.

Catherine continued to climb up the mountainside, until she got close to where the cave was hidden.

The closer she got to their cave, the thicker the trees were.  There were trees, but there was also a lot of other foliage.  There were leafy green trees that obscured the sun, and green vines that hung everywhere.  No other place in the mountains was like this, and Catherine wasn’t even sure this kind of growth was natural at this altitude.  But no one expected things to be natural here.  

Several ravens cawed from the trees.  There was a hissing sound from the ground, and Catherine noticed two snakes slithering across her path.  Snakes were definitely unusual this high up in the mountains, but Catherine wasn’t surprised.

And as she got closer, she saw one of them sitting outside the cave.  It was the same woman who had seen Catherine before--a pretty woman with long black hair, and wearing a simple black dress.  She had a basket with her, and she was filling the basket up with roots.  She sang to herself as she gathered the roots.  She had a pretty voice, but it was a haunting eerie melody that she sang.  Catherine started running towards her, worried that if she waited, she might miss her chance again.

The woman heard Catherine running towards her, and looked up.  When she saw Catherine, she brushed the dirt off of her hands, and stood up. “You must be a very foolish girl, indeed,” she said.  “For this is the second time I’ve seen you here on our mountain.  Go away at once, and do not come here again, for if I see you on our mountain a third time, it will not be forgiven.”

But the woman’s words barely registered to Catherine.  Catherine had rehearsed in her head so many times what she would say that now it just came babbling out.  “I have come to ask for aid,” Catherine began.

The woman stopped her abruptly.  “Aid will not be given.  We do not use our powers to solve the insignificant problems of the common mountain folk.  If we gave aid to everyone who approached us, there would be no end to the disturbance.”

“Then give me your counsel, and I will not ask for your aid,” Catherine pleaded.

“Very well.  You may ask me for advice this once, but then you must never return here.”

“The past year, I have felt the growth of something inside me which is not part of my physical body,” Catherine began.  “It’s some sort of energy that I can’t control.  And now I can no longer contain it.”

The woman smiled grimly.  “I see,” she said.  “So you think you’re one of us?” 

“This is what I want to be advised on,” said Catherine.  “For I am completely ignorant of what is happening to me.  If I am one of you, how would I know?”

“If you were one of us, you would know from your parents.  Magical abilities are always inherited.  They never spring out of nowhere.  Do either of your parents have magical abilities?”

“I don’t think so.  But there are many things they never tell me.”

“They don’t have to tell you.  You would have seen it.  You would have seen something.  It cannot be contained.  If magic isn’t used, then it will leak out in unexpected ways.”

“Yes,” Catherine said excitedly.  “Yes, that’s what’s been happening to me!”

“Your parents,” the woman insisted.  “Have you ever seen them do anything magical?”

“No. I--, wait, let me think.”  Catherine had never thought of her parents as magical, but now she searched her memory.  Had she missed something?  Had there been unusual events that might have been magic?

“Think particularly of your mother,” said the woman.  “It’s usually passed from mother to daughter.”

“I don’t know.  Everyone else on the mountain thinks my parents are very strange.  They’re the only ones who can read. And my mother is very good at making medicines.  She understands things about herbs and roots and leaves that no one else does.  She can make salves and draughts that can heal almost anything.”

“Interesting,” the woman said slowly.  “So you think she’s using magic to make her draughts?”

“It had never occurred to me,” Catherine replied.  “Until just now.”

“It’s possible,” said the woman.  “If her draughts and salves have a healing power that is not natural, she could be making them with magic.  But it’s also possible that she is just very learned in the art of healing.”

“Who could she have learned it from?” Catherine said.  “Nobody else in these mountains knows anything?”

The woman shrugged.  “Why have you come here, at great peril to yourself, to ask me questions which you should be asking your own mother?”

“Can you help me?” asked Catherine.  “I want to be able to control it.  Or better yet, to be rid of it.”

“If you do have it, you cannot get rid of it.”

“Then teach me how to control it.”

“I’ve already told you that aid will not be given.  We do not train apprentices here.  Only fully mature witches, who have already learned their craft, may join us.”

“But how can I learn?”

“To learn, you must be trained.  But it will not be from one of us.  You must find your own teacher.  In most cases, the teacher is a relative.  If you have the ability, there must be someone in your family who can train you.  If there is no one in your family, then you do not have the ability.”

“Is there no other test?” asked Catherine.  “Can’t you use a spell to check and see whether or not I have the ability?”

The woman gave her another sad smile.  “I already told you, we don’t do magic on command.  It would set a bad precedent if the mountain folk found out.  And besides, what good would it do for you to know?  You would still need to be taught how to control it.  What you need to do is to talk to your parents.  That is what you should have done before coming here and bothering me.”

Catherine nodded meekly.  She very much doubted that her parents would tell her anything, but she also realized that at this point in the conversation, it would be no use to argue with the witch.  She didn’t seem to understand, and she definitely didn’t seem to care.

“Do not forget that it is forbidden for ordinary humans to approach the witch’s coven,” the woman continued.  “You have been forgiven these two times now.  I repeat, a third time will not be forgiven.”

And Catherine realized that she was being dismissed.  “I understand,” she said bitterly.  She turned to go.  “Don’t worry.  You won’t see me again.”

************************************************ Below are the images that Gemini Storybook generated for this chapter. As Gemini Storybook is AI, naturally these pictures are not 100% accurate to the story, but they are at least kind of close, and so I thought I would post them here to help convey the atmosphere of the story.