Chapter 13
The world was deserted. Ivy marched along the edges of the forest where sand met trees and hunted for Carrie or Sparky or Mrs. Huffity. When no one she knew appeared, Ivy looked for anyone else. When Sparky was born, they spoke mind to mind. Ivy decided that if she was ever going to find anyone, that would be the way to do it.
She pressed her eyes together in a squint and thought as hard as she could, “Sparky? Mrs. Huffity?”
Silence. Except for the birds chirping and the insects buzzing.
Ivy was stopped by a rushing river. It was too wide to cross without getting wet again, and the foam where the ocean crashed against the incoming water looked dangerous. A dirt trail followed the river. Ivy turned with the pathway and walked inland.
She trudged along until her legs ached. She kept going even when she got hungry or thirsty. Although the brown river made her mouth water, Ivy could just hear her mother, Now, Ivy, you kids don't drink the water in the creek no matter how clean it looks. You'll get beaver fever or worse. Ivy didn't quite know what beaver fever was but decided not to take any chances.
Ivy came to a place where two rivers joined to become one large one. She was now climbing away from the river because the water moved too fast and the terrain was so rocky. She had no choice but to take a trail along a cliff above the river.
Someone had carved a bench and set it alongside the trail under a copse of trees near the waterfall. It was an invitation to rest, and Ivy sank down on the seat. The sound of the water splashing on the rocks made her feel quiet inside. Somehow in this quiet expanse, she heard Sparky calling her.
I'm at the waterfall. Ivy told Sparky. Are you safe?
We escaped and I'm covered in bandages. I won't be able to move for a couple of days. I can help you find Carrie. She's under the stone.
Ivy was so relieved to hear Sparky's voice that she felt like doing a little dance. I'll go to Carrie. Tell me what to do.
It wasn't like getting directions from the internet or a map. As she asked Sparky for directions, Ivy found that sometimes Sparky forgot that she was walking and not flying. A few minutes of fly-time for Sparky could be two hours of walking for Ivy and involve climbing over boulders or along steep and winding paths.
When the sun started to sink, casting orange rays of light through the trees, Ivy panicked. Sparky, what do I do? I'll be alone here in the dark.
But she never heard Sparky's advice. Sparky's voice had disappeared.
She continued walking as the sun sank ever so slowly behind the trees. Ivy yawned. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something dart across her vision and jump into a tree. She tried to snap out of her yawn and look, but by the time her eyes quit watering, there was nothing to see.
“Hello? Anyone there?” Ivy couldn't believe she was going to be spending the night alone in a strange forest with no sleeping bag, no tent, no flashlight, and no book. This was shaping up to be the worst night ever. And that included the night she spent at the hospital when her Mom's appendix burst.
A strange chittering filled the air and a creature burst from behind a tree running at her. At the last minute it changed directions. “Hey, I won't hurt you.”
Another creature hopped down from a tree. It looked like a lizard with a giant head and a mouthful of teeth which it immediately used on her arm. Tears in her eyes, Ivy shook off the creature. “Change of plans. I'm going to hurt you.”
Grabbing a branch, Ivy hit the lizard over the head. When it backed away, she started stripping the leaves from the bark to make a club. Whatever courage she felt when she survived the dunk in the ocean failed, and she screamed when the next creature came running. It didn't stop.
Ivy swung the branch, pretending the creature was a softball. She was on the softball league last spring. Every Tuesday and Thursday night, they played. She was on the Brownie League. With a hefty swing, she launched the creature into the night. With a gurgle and a scream of its own, the creature flew among the trees, although Ivy was too busy looking for more to see it land.
Her arm was bruised and the skin broken in a few places at the site of the attack. She circled slowly, edging away from the tree limbs above. The forest grew silent as the sky darkened. Ivy called for Sparky as she slowly turned. The darkness would come soon and Ivy realized the creatures weren't leaving. Another one dropped from one of the tree limbs and started running for her. She swung on this one and missed. It ran up to her pant leg and looked ready to launch itself at her face when she kicked it.
Ivy didn't wait to see what else would come. She fled. Running through the forest barefoot, the pads of her feet were cut on rocks and thorns while she tripped and bruised her knees. She ran until she was panting for breath and then ran some more. The creatures stalked her, chasing her through the forest.
She refused to let them herd her like a deer. If a group moved close, she sometimes turned toward them instead of away while she ran. Heaving her stick, she swung at them, sometimes losing her balance and falling. When she did, one or two of the beasts would bite her.
They jumped all over the place, into the trees, out of the trees, over logs. She thought of the piranhas Mrs. Huffity once told her about and wondered if she would survive once they swarmed over her.
When the giant birds started swooping down from the trees, Ivy cried. Bad enough to have those nasty little biters, but with the birds, she had no hope. She kept running, her clothes torn. Everything hurt. And then she realized that the birds weren't swooping at her. They were swooping on the little biting lizards. And the lizards were running.
With a whoop, Ivy thanked the birds. Not that they could understand her. But a little bird soaring among the giants swooped and landed on her shoulder, startling her. You can come to our nest. If you want to, one of the big birds will give you a ride.
Ivy wiped tears from her eyes, some of it stress from the little creatures, some of it relief. Thank you. I would, if you think it's safe.
The safest. You'll be protected from the little beasts. And you can leave whenever you want. The big ones like flying. They'll be happy to take you wherever you want to go.
Of course a bird would think an aerie a thousand feet in the air was safe. Once Ivy was riding the giant bird, she realized that she was now completely dependent on the birds. She'd never be able to scale down the mountainside on her own. They were miles away from the ocean. When they landed in a huge nest at the top of a craggy section of mountain, Ivy felt very small next to the tall nests. The stars swirled across the sky in a pattern Ivy had never seen before. The sight gave her such a feeling of aloneness. She was lost somewhere in the universe. And the universe was so very big.
Sleep now. The little bird had flown up with Ivy and was now perched on the side of the nest.
Don't the big ones talk? Ivy asked.
To me, yes. To you, no. You can't see the images fast enough. It would make you feel sick. Sleep now. The bird flew away. The bottom of the nest was soft, filled with downy feathers. Ivy sneezed once, but curled up against the side wall. Her legs hurt where she bruised and scraped them, and with all the excitement she was exhausted.
Ivy would have never guessed that she could fall asleep without a blanket or pillow. But sleep she did. The morning sun and the sound of birds chirping and the guttural caw of the larger birds woke her up.
The sides of the nest were tall, so tall that she had to stand up to see over the edge. Once she did, she was glad the nest felt so sturdy. The space between where Ivy peered over the edge and the ground stretched out in a huge distance. The trees looked like tiny shrubs. Stepping to the middle of the nest, Ivy had to catch her breath. It was so far down. She didn't want to look down any more, but she could hardly help herself. You could see so many things from this height.
It's much safer in the skies. The blue top-knot feather on the little bird bobbed up and down. Ivy was still awe-struck by the distance, but wasn't quite ready to look over the edge again.
How do I get down? Ivy asked. She decided now was as good a time as any to be going.
Well, you can't really. Now that you're here.
But I don't want to stay anymore.
Then jump out. The bird cocked its head and peered at Ivy with one eye.
Ivy crept up to the edge and peered over again. The air seemed colder at this height. I'll wait until the bigger ones are ready to take me down.
The little bird laughed. It was a musical sound, a near chirping. Ivy wouldn't have guessed it had any sinister undertones until the bird said, Why would they take you down? You just got here.
But you said I'd be safe here and that I could leave whenever I wanted. Ivy was getting tired of having a conversation in her head with the bird. It was making fun of her with images of her falling and splatting on rocks or of a thousand little creatures biting her.
I lied. The bird fluttered it's wings and hopped once. So get yourself settled in. You'll be making a home of this place for a while.
Ivy couldn't believe what she was hearing. And then what? You can't keep me here forever.
Not forever. Just until the eggs hatch. The little bird turned its head toward another nest a short distance away.
Ivy was thinking to herself, Why would they want me around when the eggs hatch. Do the little birds need a playmate?
The blue bird with its fancy blue top-not and silver wings fluttered and flew around the nest, gaining distance between itself and Ivy. Perhaps it was afraid of her reaction when it said, You're a large worm. You'll satisfy the babies as a tender and tasty morsel. Toodle-oo.
Ivy decided she didn't like birds, not in the least bit. And now she had an even larger problem. She was thousands of feet in the air on a sheer cliff face waiting to be served to a bunch of hungry babies as dinner.
She was scared. There was no denying that. Ivy slowly walked around the inside of the nest, peering over the side. It was a very long way down.
Sparky? Sparky? I'm in big trouble.
A large gray bird with a cruel beak and beady eyes as big as Ivy's fist flew from a tall point where it seemed to be keeping watch, and landed on the rocks above the nest where Ivy waited. Stop that noise or I'll throw you out of the nest.
Ivy swallowed. The big birds heard her calling for Sparky. She said, I'm sorry. I won't say anything more.
See that you don't.
Ivy watched the birds come and go, and tried to figure out whether there was a guard on her. The birds swapped places when sitting the nests. Sometimes it seemed like the skies were empty while at other times they were squabbling or cawing amongst themselves. They didn't caw like a crow, though. Their voices were deeper and more menacing. Ivy couldn't believe she didn't notice before. But then, how could she have guessed when they came to save her, that she was actually being saved for dessert.
Ivy's mom used to sing the Muppet songs to her at bedtime. She knew most of the songs by heart. Now was a good time for “The Rainbow Connection”.
The larger birds perked up, turning their heads and listening. Ivy continued singing through that song and then started another song. And not just in her mind. She sang out loud. All the while, she tested the edge of the nest next to the cliff face for ledges. The problem with scrambling out of the nest in a hurry was that a single mistake would be followed by a long fall and a large splat.
Ivy didn't want that to happen to her, but given the choice between baby food and falling, she figured falling would be quicker and at least she would have tried to escape.
She stopped singing after several songs. When the sun was at its highest point in the sky, the flock swept off the mountainside in a beautiful pattern that would have inspired Ivy under different circumstances. The nest of eggs was manned by a single bird. Even the little birds had flown away.
It was too convenient. Ivy knew the birds were testing her in some way. She looked out over the forest to watch them soar, swooping down over the trees. She needed to wait and figure out their patterns. The babies weren't hatched yet. That gave her some time.
Ivy was glad she hadn't started her escape at that point, for it wasn't long before one of the birds swooped in and dropped a hare into the nest, it's neck broken. A little bird showed her a picture of herself gnawing on the leg.
I don't eat raw meat.
It's tasty. Go ahead. Try it. The voice sounded like the guys on her mom's exercise video. 'One more. You can do it.'
Ivy was grossed out by the dead animal, but decided if she were going to be killed, she might as well cause some trouble of her own. They wouldn't get to eat the rabbit either. She picked it up by the scruff of the neck and pitched it over the nest, aiming just to the left of the little bird.
Startled, the little bird fluttered its feathers. The top knot wobbled once and the little bird disappeared over the side. The hare bounced along rocks and fell to a ledge fifty feet below the nest.
You're an unpleasant worm.
Ivy crossed her arms and pulled back to the side of the nest closest to the cliff. She was feeling particularly vulnerable.
Angry at the little bird, she started a song of her own, one that she made up as she went. I like dragons who eat little birds, who toast their tails and roast their beaks. Dragons that grind birds in their teeth and use their bones to floss between.
Ivy paused to see if there had been any movement, but it was quiet below. The little bird was there. Ivy could feel it fluttering at the tip of her mind, like a thought that she couldn't quite think of. She decided that even if no birds were listening, the song was at least making her feel better.
Little blue-birds taste like chicken. When you fry them, their wings thicken. Oh, little blue-birds. How I wish that Sparky could hear me...so that she could have a snack. A blue bird swallowed near her snout, swallowed whole but the leg sticking out. Little blue-birds.
Hey, is that song about me? The bird flew around the nest once and landed on the edge across from Ivy. A chunk of rabbit fur was stuck to his beak, and Ivy knew at once what he had been doing.
The gray birds will be mad that little blue-bird took my food. Little blue-bird. Since I should be fat and ready to feed their young when they are old. Ivy smiled. It was ridiculous. She was about to be eaten or thrown out of a nest to fall thousands of feet and somehow the song was making her feel better.
The bird didn't seem terribly upset. He was preening his feathers and watching Ivy, waiting to hear the next line of the song.
When a blue bird flies so high, soaring in the lonesome sky, while the dragons lick their lips, little blue bird. Sparky, where are you? Little blue bird is going to feed me to the eggs. Now I fear that I'll be dead. Little Blue bird.
Ivy stopped singing, hoping to hear Sparky's voice, hoping for some advice on what to do next, but the only voice she heard was the birds. My name is Twif. Can you put my name in the song?
Her universe just kept getting stranger and stranger. Ivy wouldn't be surprised at anything anymore. Dreams came true, but not all dreams were good. Alien worlds were real. Dragons, too. And here was a bird who wanted his name in a song. Twif the tweeter, sang much sweeter when I stood upon the ground. When the dragons eat Twif's tail, the little bird will taste so stale. Because he's so rouuuunnnnnnd...Ivy took a little break from singing to tell Twif Because you've eaten so much rabbit, you see.
But I'm not round. Twif looked down at himself and then at Ivy. I'm not round enough for the song.
No, you're not. You need to eat more of that rabbit if you want to be round enough for the song.
Twif's head drooped. But I'm already full.
Full isn't the same thing as round. Ivy said.
With a nod, Twif launched himself from the nest and swirled in spiraling circles down fifty feet to the rabbit.
What happens to Twif next?
Well, he was eaten. I suppose he doesn't do anything.
Oh. Can't you have him save a cute little green bird, one with yellow wings and a nice smile? Maybe he
can save her from the dragons.
Something about that question seemed so human. Ivy leaned her head back against the nest and sang.
Twif, the mighty. Twif, the great. Saved Ivy first and sealed his fate. For the hero found his mate. She was running, fleeing, still retreating from the scary dragon's teeth. Twif, the mighty, who saved Ivy also saved his lady love. They found a nest and put to rest all the fear of dragon kin. For the dragon, who loved Ivy, declared Twif forever friend.
Twif flew back up to the top of the nest and hopped down inside with Ivy. Who's Ivy?
That's me. Ivy said.
If I save you, will I be dragon friend? Twif fluttered his wings and hopped into the nest, preening his feathers and standing proudly as if it had already happened.
Well, Sparky will be your friend. She's a very nice dragon. Ivy wasn't too sure about other dragons.
I've never heard of Sparky. Is she big?
Even with her life in danger, Ivy didn't want to lie. Sparky as a newborn was certainly not a big dragon, not even medium-sized. But she was bigger than Twif and would grow bigger every day. Ivy decided to tell the truth, but make it sound good. Well, Sparky is a bit bigger than you, but she was just born, so she has a lot of growing up to do. There's no telling how big she could get. Someday, I think she'll be dragon-sized.
I'll save you and become dragon-friend.
Ivy watched the little bird strut across the floor of the nest with its chest puffed out and its wings whipping along the air. Twif had an active imagination, for a bird.
That's nice.
Ivy planned on escaping all right. But not with Twif. The bird was tiny for one thing and likely to be a spy for another. Ivy didn't count on Twif being such a single-minded fanatic about rescuing her.
What do we do first? Twif flew to Ivy and landed on her shoulder. So now Twif wanted to be friends, now that it suited the crazy little bird. And Ivy had no idea what to tell the bird. She couldn't tell him of her plans to escape. He might tell the larger birds in trade for being hero of the skies.
Do you know when the eggs will hatch? Ivy asked. She was getting restless with only a ten foot space to exist in. And she was getting thirsty.
Any day now. Not what Ivy was hoping to hear.
Is there a time when most of the birds are away?
In the evening we swim in the lake. We play there for a few hours and only the nest-sitters won't swim. I'll stay here with you and we can escape then.
Ivy decided that she would try it this evening. Not that she'd probably get far, but she had to try. Perhaps we should think about this more.
I love swimming. You don't mind if I go? I promise not to tell the others about our plans. The big birds won't let me swim every day. Ivy watched the little bird and found herself pitying the creature. Not that she could do anything to help. She had to help herself first.
But something in the way the bird followed the larger animals, making plans based solely on what the large birds said, saddened Ivy and reminded her of David teasing her every day in school. What if she didn't have friends? What if David was a monster instead of a boy and would eat her if he got angry enough? Maybe she'd follow the largest creature at a whim, too.
You go swimming. I bet the water feels cool. Which reminded Ivy how thirsty she had gotten since waking up.
Ivy and Twif talked for the rest of the day. She gathered as much information listening to Twif and watching the other birds as she could. Three birds swooped at the edges of the flock watching for predators. Ivy shuddered to think of something large enough to take down one of them.
The nesters sat on the eggs. Twif said in the early morning, they would get a quick bite to eat while their spouses sat the nests. The day would be the worst time to escape. That was when the birds slept. Ivy could see his point. The birds were all perched with their beaks tucked into their breasts snoozing.
She checked the cliff for small fissures and about thirty feet from the nest where she was trapped, Ivy thought she found a crack small enough to fit through. Her goal when the birds went to swim was to climb out of the nest and work her way to the crack, slipping inside and hiding until the next evening. Thirty feet. In ground terms, that really wasn't very far at all. But in cliff terms, Ivy thought she should have a plan to hide. And stay hidden.
During the middle of the day Ivy couldn't stand the thirst anymore. She asked Twif for a drink. Maybe you could get me a canteen of water, so when you're flying or away, I can still have water to drink.
Twif knew what a canteen was and without answering flew to a large gray bird with silver-white feathers and a brown speckled breast. After a quick exchange of tweets with the bird, the two flew off.
A while later, the birds flew back with a large water pouch, full of water. Ivy drank her fill. She decided she needed more time to plan her escape.
Ivy stepped to the edge of the nest and looked over. The distance to the ground was fearsome, but she forced herself to look down. It was a long, long way. And as far as it was to fall, Ivy knew she would have to climb down, inch by inch, with dangerous predators all around. Tears filled her eyes and she wiped them angrily away. Aloud she whispered, “Mrs. Huffity says I can do anything I set my mind to. And I can do this.”
Ivy forced herself to look straight down, leaning over the protective wall of the nest to do it. With a sigh, she said, “Boy, am I in trouble.”
The largest birds left the nests first. Soon flocks were sweeping the skies above Ivy and the worst part of watching them leave was knowing that the moment had come.
A few birds nested. Ivy would have to take the chance that they wouldn't kill her as she crawled out. Beyond the nest was a rocky ledge, and that was Ivy's first goal. The nest's edge was about as high as the counter in her kitchen, which made for a safe nest, but it was hard to climb. She put her hands on the top and hoisted herself up, putting her knee on the top just like she would at home, but at home she couldn't see a thousand tiny trees in the distance. She didn't feel brave enough to stand straight up. Instead she inched her way to the other side and lowered herself on the smooth rock. The ledge gave her just a few feet before it dropped off to a steep cliff face.
She looked at the nearest nest, but the bird was dozing. So far, none of them had made a peep. Her heart sped as she prepared for the dangerous part. One slip and she would die. With a deep breath, Ivy pushed her glasses back and stepped to the edge of the premonitory. The crack in the rock face seemed so far away now, but if she could just get there, it was the perfect fit for her and it seemed to go deep enough that Ivy could wedge herself in.
The first step went well. A little trail followed the edge of the rock-face and while it only gave her just enough space for her own body, she could hug the rock and move towards the crevice. The trail narrowed to a point along the cliff face. Ivy reached the end. She stood at the end for what felt like forever. She didn't dare look down. The crack wasn't too far away. She planned her foot holds in her mind, where she would place her hands, how she would move.
Starting was the hard part, the hardest thing she had ever done or would ever do. Finally, she stepped to the first foothold, leaning into the cliff face and grasping the small ledges with everything she had. Methodically she stepped from one foothold to the next. Her path mapped out in her mind, she could no longer see the crack or know how far by sight. She could only step to the next hold and the next.
A breeze started to blow and when Ivy reached for one of the cracks that she could grip, a shower of rocks fell past her. Shaking Ivy closed her eyes. I can do this. The moment passed and Ivy found a steadier place to pull herself. The crack in the rocks opened on a thin ledge, just Ivy's size. Although the distance between that crack and the next wasn't far, by the time she stepped to the ledge, her arms and legs felt like jelly.
She inched her way along, the wind making her nose run. Her hands were shaking when she wiped her nose. When another gust of wind burst by, she turne
d her head hoping to avoid it. Her glasses slid down her nose and off her face. They landed at her feet, bouncing once. That bounce did it.
With a gasp, Ivy watched as her glasses fell down. She felt sick to her stomach watching the distance, realizing how very far it was and feeling the chill wind rising. She closed her eyes for a moment to catch her breath, her body hugging the rock wall. Just a few more steps. I can make it.
If the birds ever noticed her climbing the wall, they didn't cry out in alarm. As she stepped into the darkness of the crack, Ivy thought about the distance down the cliff face and realized how difficult it would be. Somehow she had imagined the journey to the crack would be easy. The crack dipped just a little bit below the ledge.
Now that she knew what was in store, she didn't see how she would make it all the way down the cliff face. She climbed deeper into the darkness until the crack ended and she was hidden from the birds and tucked into rock. Curling up on the cold hard surface, she decided to rest.
Somehow Ivy fell asleep on that barren slab of rock, wedged as far into the crevice as she could fit. During the night a storm blew in. Ivy awoke to wind blasting into the crack. With it came rain. She wasn't sure that the nests would feel much better in the downpour, but Ivy was feeling miserable and disheartened.
She called out to Sparky. Sparky? Are you there?
No Sparky. She called again.
Instead, she got Twif. A few minutes after her calls, the little bird dove into the crack. You're here. I was looking for you.
Ivy sat up, her back resting against the smoothest part of the crack. She felt squished. I need Sparky. I can't climb all the way down the cliff.
Twif fluttered down to sit on Ivy's knee. It's not that far. You can do it.
Ivy shivered as a freezing gust of wind blew into the crack. It's so cold in here. I can't climb down a cliff in the rain. I'll decide what to do tomorrow.
She really didn't know what to do. Without Sparky or Mrs. Huffity, she was in a bind, that much was certain.
Do the others know that I'm gone?
Twif cocked his head. The bird who brought you to the nest says he will come to get you when the eggs hatch.
He won't be able to reach me in here. Ivy said.
You'll have to come out for food or water or to make an escape. He's not worried. Most worms that fall out of the nest die or wriggle on the ground injured for a while. Twif hopped once on Ivy's knee.
Were they like me? The ones who fell?
Yes. The same and different. All try to escape, but it's too far down.
By now the wind was howling. Twif looked outside, I will see you in the morning. My nest is more comfortable.
And Twif flew away. Ivy wasn't surprised. The bird seemed to do whatever it felt like doing without regard to anyone else. But she felt lonely without him there. And scared. She didn't want to die of starvation or thirst in this crack.
And that's when she realized that she was wasting an opportunity to gather drinking water. Taking the canteen that Twif gave her, she held it at the angle the rain was blowing. She was already soaked and shivering, but at least now she would have something to drink. Ivy longed most of all for a warm bed and the furnace.
The night was endless. Ivy thought she might have fallen asleep once, but if she did she was immediately awake again because of the driving rain and the sound of the wind. Nothing was going right, and she wondered how she could ever escape. As she huddled between two cold, wet rocks, she wondered whether Carrie knew she was missing and if Carrie was talking to her parents right now. Maybe Carrie was in this world, too, facing a scary skeleton. Ivy was beginning to think any fate was better than hers.