Chapter Nine

Time is going by too quickly, Leelo thought as she and Sage made their way across the island to their patrolling spot for the day. She had continued to sleep in Tate’s room since the night of the festival, and Ketty even managed to refrain from scolding him when he burned the supper. But though Fiona had seemed better for a little while after the spring festival, her condition had worsened since. She was hardly able to get out of bed most days, and Leelo suspected it was at least partly from the knowledge that her only son was leaving. Tate managed to keep a brave face for his family, but at night he cried in his sleep.

Spring was finally here, at least, and the island was blanketed in green, with more flowers bursting through the soil every day. There was to be a slaughter tonight, a ritual killing of an animal by each family to thank the Forest for its abundance and protection from the outsiders. After this, the Forest would be fully awake. Leelo was dreading it, the smell of the blood, the harsh, angry notes of the killing song. But she knew she would have to go, and there was no point fighting it.

Sage nudged Leelo with her elbow as they sat on a log, watching the opposite shore. “He’s going to be fine, you know.”

Leelo twirled a piece of grass between her fingers. “But I don’t know that, Sage. I’ll never know.” She thought of the fire Tate had promised to make for her, but she had no idea if he would be able to manage it. He was still so young, and if outsiders were half as bad as Ketty said, he could be in great danger.

“He’s a smart boy,” Sage said. “He’s more resourceful than you give him credit for.”

“He’s not even twelve. What were we doing at his age? Playing with the lambs and gathering mushrooms? He’s never been on his own. We might as well be throwing him to the wolves.”

Sage was quiet for a moment. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to make this easier for you.”

Leelo wiped her damp cheeks on her sleeve. “You can’t make it easier. No one can.”

“Then what can I do?”

Leelo looked her cousin in the eyes, relieved to find there was genuine concern there. “Try to understand what this is like for me. And if you can’t, then just be kind.”

“I think I can manage that.” Sage slung her arm around Leelo’s shoulders. “Will you come back to our room, after he’s gone? It’s been lonely.”

Leelo nodded. “I will. I just... I wanted to have as much time with him as I could.”

They were both startled by a splash on the far side of the lake. They rose and peered into the distance. A group of villagers stood on the shore, throwing rocks into the water and singing a made-up rhyme in high, irritating voices. This wasn’t uncommon. The younger villagers would sometimes dare each other to come to the lakeshore, just to prove they were brave enough to face the islanders, that they weren’t afraid of the Endlans’ songs.

Leelo thought again of the ritual tonight and wished these fools would leave. They had no idea what they were dealing with.

“Should we report them?” Leelo asked.

Sage stared at the villagers for a moment, then shook her head. “No. Our shift is over, and they’re harmless.” She picked up her bow and linked her arm through Leelo’s. “Come on. Mother needs help with the lambs today. There were twins born just last night.”

Leelo smiled as they left the villagers to their rude words and name-calling, happy to have something else to think about. “Can Tate come? He loves the lambs.”

“Oh, I suppose it can’t hurt. We just have to make sure Mother doesn’t see.”

Leelo squeaked in delight, which made Sage laugh, and for a moment Leelo felt a surge of hope. Even Fiona seemed a little better today. When they got home, she was in the rocking chair by the fire, knitting. She smiled when the girls entered, still wearing their boots.

“And where are you headed now, my love?” she asked Leelo.

“To see the lambs. One of the ewes had twins last night.”

“I hope you’ll take Tate with you. He’s been moping all day long.”

“We will,” Leelo said, kissing her mother’s forehead, which was blessedly cool and dry.

“You should stop at Isola’s house and see if she’d like to come. Rosalie said she hasn’t left the house in days. Some sunshine would do her good.”

Sage looked appalled. “We’re not supposed to talk to her. Mother said the council forbid it.”

“The council doesn’t need to know,” Fiona replied curtly. “Go on now. I’ll tell Tate to meet you at the pasture.”

Sage complained the entire way to Isola’s cottage, trying to convince Leelo to change her mind. “We’re going to get in trouble. And why should we risk our reputations for her? She did a terrible thing, Leelo.”

“She made one mistake, Sage. How long should she suffer for it?”

“I’m not saying she has to be punished forever. I’m just saying I don’t think weshould be the ones to stick our necks out for her.”

“Then who should?”

Sage rolled her eyes. “You sound like Aunt Fiona.”

“We’re at least going to ask her.” Leelo knocked on the cottage door while Sage tapped her foot impatiently as they waited for Rosalie. When she finally answered the door, she looked exhausted, but she let Leelo in.

“It’s good of you to come. Perhaps you’ll have better luck than I have,” she said, closing the door behind them.

Isola was sitting by the window, staring into the woods with a faraway look in her eyes. Leelo knew without asking that she was thinking about Pieter.

“We’re going to see the lambs, Isola,” she said gently. “We thought you might like to join us. Some fresh air might help.”

Isola dragged her glassy eyes from the window up to Leelo’s. “I doubt it.”

“Well, at least the lambs will. It’s impossible not to smile when a lamb is frolicking for the first time.”

For a long moment, Leelo was sure Isola would refuse. But then she rose to her feet and nodded. “All right.”

As they made their way to the pasture where the sheep were kept, Leelo breathed in the scents of spring: worm-turned soil, new grass, sun-warmed stone, and damp moss. In the shadows, the ground was spongy from spring rains, but the trail was dry, and there were patches of flowers growing in every clearing: lily of the valley, daffodils, and hyacinth. Leelo had exchanged her Watcher leggings and tunic for one of her mother’s spring dresses. To ward off any lingering chill, she’d added her favorite sweater today, a soft cardigan with bright knit stripes.

There were five ewes nursing lambs, all creamy fleece and knobby knees. The ewe with twins was the most docile. Tate was already at the fence, trying to tempt her with a handful of grass. She made her way over eagerly, her babies tripping along as they attempted to walk and nurse at the same time, a skill they had not yet mastered.

“She’s such a good mother,” Tate said, patting the ewe on her woolly head.

Sage nudged him out of the way. “It’s her nature.”

Tate and Leelo shared a glance; they knew that not all mothers were as kind and loving as theirs, that not every woman took to motherhood so readily. Perhaps it’s different with sheep, Leelo thought.

“What are their names?” Isola asked, lifting her chin at the babies.

Sage rolled her eyes. “Names? They’re not pets, you know. We’ll keep the female for breeding and wool. The male will likely be eaten at some point. You don’t name your dinner, do you?”

Leelo frowned at Sage. Isola was showing interest in something, and her cousin was doing her best to squash it.

“I think we should call that one Fleecy,” Tate said, pointing to the little male.

Leelo smiled when she saw Isola’s eyes light up just a bit. “And what about the other one?” Isola asked Tate.

He thought for a moment. “Weecy.”

Sage snorted. “That’s not even a name.”

Tate ignored her and held out some more grass for the mother. “And I’ll call you Clover.”

Leelo’s heart felt like it might burst in her chest from how much she loved her little brother, and that surge of hope she’d felt earlier vanished. Tate was too good for the outside world, too pure. He would never survive among those horrible villagers. He’d need to go farther away. Far enough where the people wouldn’t know anything about Endla or its inhabitants. Which meant he’d probably be too far away to come back this winter.

The barn door opened so violently it hit the outside wall with a bang, startling the lambs. Ketty emerged, her face contorted in a scowl.

Leelo tried to hide Tate behind her and cast a worried glance at Isola. But Ketty’s anger was directed elsewhere. She stormed past the four of them, heading back toward the house.

“What’s wrong, Mother?” Sage asked, hurrying after Ketty.

“One of the ewes won’t nurse her lamb,” she said over her shoulder. “I have to fetch a bottle.”

“I can do it,” Tate offered, but Ketty only cast him a withering glance and disappeared into the house.

“It’s all right,” Leelo said to him. “Let’s go look for tadpoles in the stream instead.”

“You’re wrong,” he said gruffly, shrugging off Leelo’s hand. “She does hate me. She’d get rid of me herself, if she could.”

***

That evening, Ketty led a sheep by a rope around its neck into the woods. Fiona had insisted on staying home with Tate, despite Ketty’s protests, and Leelo wished she was back there with them, cozy by the fire instead of tromping through the Forest to the slaughter.

“At least try not to look miserable,” Sage said to Leelo as they gathered in the pine grove. Leelo hadn’t been back since she made the blood sacrifice for Tate’s magic. She’d never liked this place. How could she, when it contained the memories of so much suffering? Each family stood at the base of their tree with their offering, a motley assembly of animals, ranging from chickens to a lowing calf.

When they were children, Ketty had insisted that the girls each sacrifice an animal themselves, to fully appreciate their responsibilities as Endlans. In the end, Leelo hadn’t been able to do it, and Sage had been forced to kill both of their rabbits.

Later that night, Leelo had been crying in bed when Sage asked her what was wrong.

“Aunt Ketty said I was too soft for this world, that it would always find a way to break my heart,” Leelo said through her tears. “Do you think that’s true?”

“Of course not,” Sage had assured her. “Mother just doesn’t know you like I do.”

But even now, a part of Leelo knew that Ketty was right. One of the council members led them all in the killing song, and one by one, the head of each household ran a knife along the throat of their sacrifice. Terrified bleats and lows split the night, and Leelo stifled a gag as the iron tang of blood filled the air, pooling at the base of each tree before disappearing into the soil. Once again, Leelo thought she heard the wind rustle through the highest branches, like the sigh of a man satisfied with his meal, and she shuddered before glancing at Sage.

“Which one did Aunt Ketty choose this time?” Leelo asked, watching as the life drained out of the poor sheep.

Sage’s gaze was fierce in the lantern light. “The one that wouldn’t nurse her baby.”

Leelo felt bile rise in her throat. “Why?”

“She wouldn’t even care for her own offspring,” Sage said. “I might not know much about being a mother, but even I can see how wrong that is.”

Leelo swallowed down the bitter taste in her mouth. She couldn’t help thinking of Fiona and Tate, how Ketty wouldn’t stand for a sheep that refused to nurse its baby but was perfectly willing to let Tate be sent away, as innocent as a lamb himself.

The animals were all silent now, and so were the islanders. As they turned to go, Leelo glanced once more at the sheep, its dead eyes seeming to stare right through her. For a brief flash, almost like a vision, she saw her own mother lying there instead, and the thought made Leelo shiver the entire way home.

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