Pip and the Wood Witch Curse (12 page)

He moved backward, his hands raking their way across the walls, and it soon became apparent that he had steered himself toward the woods. He looked down to see a pair of rusted broken gates. Knotted and gnarled tree bark reached down toward him. The streets had gone and the buildings had been replaced with twisting trunks and branches. At his feet the cold bit into his toes through a bed of leaves and snow. There was no mistaking it. Pip was in the forest.

Perhaps it was Pip’s wild imagination, but as soon as he felt the forest floor beneath his feet he sensed that the trees were against him. That their roots twisted and turned and tried to trip his feet. That the branches above seemed to reach out to grab him or scratch at his face and tear at his clothes.

And somehow he had begun to feel sleepy. There was some drowsy, dreamy feel about the forest, almost as if sorcery was in the air, filtering between the trees like fog and bringing a strange earthy scent that was somehow pleasant and hypnotic.

Pip pushed on. He dared not call out and the night grew darker as he went farther in and the light from the city faded. Where should he look? Which way should he turn? There was more chance that he would be caught than that he would find Frankie and Toad. He stumbled and fell and the strange scent grew stronger, making him sleepier.

Up ahead, there was a clearing lit by a shaft of moonlight. Pip stopped and rested a moment, listening to the noises in the woods. Distant cawing and cackling, the creak and twist of trees. Who knows what could be happening to Toad and Frankie? He looked down to see the prettiest-looking flower. The smell was so strong now that he felt himself dozing as he sat. His head tilted down, making his body jerk, and his own movement woke him.

In that instant he realized what was happening. It was the scent of the winter flowers making him tired. Of course! This must be how so many of the children had been caught in the very beginning and no one had ever realized.

Pip ripped the sleeve from his shirt so that he had something to cover his nose and mouth before he soldiered on. The smell tried to drag him down, but he was determined to fight. He picked up freezing handfuls of snow and rubbed the snow into his face to keep himself awake.

But the farther he went the more chance there was of being seen. The nose of the wolf would sniff him out, or the eye of the crow would find him. The craftiness of the witch would catch him. Still he carried on, plowing through the snow.

After some time he spied a shape up ahead, a rounded silhouette. It was the pumpkin carriage, abandoned in the middle of nowhere. The horse was still tethered and shuffled on its hooves, whinnying and braying and breathing its clouds of fog into the still air.

What had happened here? Pip’s heart began to beat fast. Had his friends already been beaten by some disaster?

Pip realized that he was missing Toad’s company. He thought of the way that Toad made him laugh, of his clumsy blustering ways and of all the other things that made Toad who he was. How he kept Pip awake at night with dark tales of the hollow, or woke him up early when he was worn out. Pip feared that he might have lost the only person in his life that he had ever really felt close to.

At the same time that Pip found the carriage, Jarvis and Roach had a stroke of luck.

“What is that?” said Roach. He had sent Fenris searching up ahead and there was a flurry of activity. More wolves joined him as his snout poked into the hollow of a tree and howls filled the air.

Roach and Jarvis hurried forward. Jarvis held up the torch with his one good hand and lit the scene.

“Get back,” said Roach, protecting his battered hand by nursing it in a spare armpit. “Let me in.”

And there inside the trunk were the sleeping figures of Toad and Frankie, worn down by the scent of the forest flowers.

“Got ’em!” Roach grinned. Fenris grabbed each by their collar and pulled their sleeping bodies out onto the snowy floor of the forest. The other wolves leered over them and licked their lips.

“Away,” growled Roach. “These are not for your picking.”

“Hurry! We must make haste,” said Jarvis. “These young ones will make fine prisoners. The keep has been empty far too long.”

Howls filled the air and the call of the crows joined them from the city streets. The witches knew what that meant, they knew the children had been found and captured.

In a swarming spiraling flock they spun upward and swarmed back toward the treetops.

Pip stopped and listened to the deafening howling and cawing. As he gazed up into the moonlit space above he saw the black flock returning, and a chill ran through his already freezing bones.

It was a rapid assembly of the Stone Circle. The wolves plowed through the snow, moving swiftly between the trees in packs of five and six.

A sweeping, whooshing sound whistled through the air as the witches flocked downward like rapidly falling autumn leaves. The crows drew up behind them, spreading their cloaks as they landed on the shoulders of their companions. Other creatures climbed out from their holes and scratched their way across the branches.

By now Pip had untethered the horse and managed to climb on to its back by using a step from the broken carriage. At first the horse resisted, braying and rearing up on its hind legs, but Pip held on. If there was one thing he felt comfortable doing it was handling a horse. “Whooaa, girl,” he said, steadying her nerves. He put his arms around her neck and whispered something that seemed to calm her down. Then he began to steer her through the trees.

Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, Pip headed in the direction of the howls. He knew that if he did not get there in time he would not see Toad and Frankie again.

“The boy is coming. He’s almost there!” called out Captain Dooley, who was now wide awake. “Hurry, hurry. Faster, faster!” And he grew so excited at the prospect of the new prisoners that he caused the old cloth sack to dislodge itself from its position and it fell, unseen, through a hole in the floor of the old attic.

Pip was thundering through the forest now, getting to know his newfound companion. He held a sturdy stick in his right hand and beat at the twigs and branches, ducking and bobbing his head here and there.

The sleeping children were being carried by the wolves. The whole forest followed, gazing upon the youngsters.

A clap of thunder rumbled up above and lightning struck a nearby tree, sending a flash of light and fire into the Stone Circle.

The thunder and lightning had startled Pip’s horse and he struggled to keep control, holding on tight to her neck and feeling her hot breath cloud his face.

He stumbled into the clearing and suddenly he was faced with the Stone Circle and the crowd that huddled tightly around it, but the horse was going so fast that she plowed into the tangle of wolves and witches, and the crows lifted into the air in fear, scattering amongst the trees.

The horse trampled the fire in the confusion and Pip saw that Frankie and Toad were standing motionless, propped up against a pillar. The horse’s rear end circled as Pip held on to her neck: She kicked out, and Roach and Jarvis were thrust into a nearby thicket. The wolves snapped at her ankles, but they were no match for the stature and strength of the black steed.