But she had no way of knowing where we were or how to get home. Even now, I could see she was confused, wandering aimlessly, with no path to guide her. She wouldn’t last a day.
“Goldie, wait!” I ran to catch up with her.
“Go away,” she grumbled.
“But I want to help you.”
“I don’t need help.”
“Do you even know where you are?”
She glanced sideways at the gravestones and the whispering trees. “In The Woods, of course. And this is a graveyard, so I can’t be far from the village.”
Goldie continued walking, looking every which way, trying to decide which direction to go. I think she knew something strange had just happened, even if she didn’t know what it was.
Granny said that memory charms are some of the trickiest magic, because you can’t really erase someone’s mind. You can only muddle it, like throwing dirt in clear water and swishing it around. I wondered if there was any way to make Goldie’s memories clear again. Dirt settles eventually, right?
I followed a few steps behind Goldie. Every now and then, she looked back at me suspiciously, so I focused on the gravestones, reading the names again as we walked.
LEONARD. CHARLOTTE. HEINRICH.
Goldie walked a little faster.
WILHELM. OTTO…
I stopped, squinting at a particularly old gravestone. The stone was crumbling, but the name was clear.
ALBERT.
Oh, poor Albert. He wasn’t going to make it home for supper after all, and The Well Witch would never see her love. She’d wait and wait and make herself young again and again, forgetting everything except Albert, and Albert would never come home.
I moved on, past the graveyard and the whispering trees. Away from The Wine Well and The Well Witch. Away from the magic to save Granny. I wondered if there could be a magic out there that would keep Granny with me without taking too much away.
Goldie walked maybe a hundred feet ahead of me, ambling in an aimless, haphazard way. She glanced back at me over her shoulder and—
Schleeeoop!
She sank knee-deep in the bog.
I laughed, remembering our mud fight, but then Goldie started crying, so I took her arm and tried to help her out.
“Don’t touch me!” she screamed. “Stop following me! Stop it, or I’ll…I’ll hit you!” She raised her hand into a little fist that probably couldn’t punch down dough. Still, she looked fierce. She breathed through clenched teeth, and her teary eyes were blazing for a fight.
It was a strange reversal, me chasing after Goldie, and Goldie making threats and fists. But I wasn’t about to let her go off on her own. I was Red, I reminded myself, and if nothing else, red was a stubborn color. I hadn’t dragged Goldie all this way and gone through all this trouble just to have her ditch me.
I stomped both my feet in the bog. Mud splattered on Goldie’s cheek. “You don’t scare me,” I said. “I’ll come and go as I please.”
She wiped her face. “Oh! You horrible girl! Didn’t your mother teach you any manners at all?”
“No,” I said. “But my granny taught me all sorts of spells and potions and curses. I’m very good at the curses.”
Goldie scrambled out of the bog to dry ground. “Witch! Keep away from me! You’re evil!” She spoke each word like she was cracking a whip. And it stung. Goldie had never been mean to me like this. Maybe that wine did something else besides take away her memories.
“Fine.” I lifted my hands in surrender. “I’ll keep my distance, but I can’t help it if we’re traveling in the same direction.”
“Fine,” said Goldie, and she stood and huffed along the riverbank.
“Keep your eyes open for bears and wolves!” I called. “I’ve seen quite a few around here.”
She slowed her step and allowed me to walk just slightly closer. Now that I was chasing after her and she was trying to get me to leave, I couldn’t help but feel a pinch of guilt for how I had acted before. I was getting a dose of my own medicine now.
As we traveled, the reality of my situation sank in. The wine would not help Granny, or at least it didn’t seem worth the consequences. What if she ended up forgetting me or, worse, hating me, as Goldie did now? I didn’t know what to do. There were still two other options the dwarf had mentioned—The Red Roses and The Magic Hearts—but I didn’t know where they were or how they worked. I had a feeling the dwarf had purposely kept those details vague to get me to choose the well. He’d probably hoped I’d drink the wine and forget about dwarves and how to make them tell me things. Little trickster.
The sun dipped behind the mountain peaks and the air grew chill. Bats burst from a cave high up on the mountainside, screeching for their supper.
“I’m stopping to make camp!” I called to Goldie. “You may continue without me if you wish. I won’t follow you.”
Goldie stopped and glanced back at me with suspicion. I went to work gathering wood and sticks to build a fire, then found a large pine with branches that arched to the ground to make a small shelter. Goldie moved to a tree a ways from me but close enough that we could see each other.
Once I had my fire going, I gathered some wild raspberries and edible roots. Goldie tried to do the same but had no success. I sat by the fire and ate a solitary meal. Usually I enjoyed the quiet of The Woods, but a quiet Goldie was disconcerting. It was like a songbird gone silent.
Goldie peeked out from her pine shelter, but when she saw me watching, she scrambled away.
“If you’re cold, you can come closer to the fire,” I said.
She didn’t move for several minutes, but eventually she scooted closer, stopping a good five feet away. She wrapped her shawl tightly around her and shivered, then eyed my meal hungrily.
“I won’t bite, you know,” I said. “And you can have some berries. I promise they’re not poisonous.”
Hunger won out. She crawled toward me like a wary squirrel, snatched a handful of berries, and scrambled back. She devoured the berries in less than a minute. I finished my own meal and pretended not to notice Goldie inching toward the fire until she was only a couple feet away.
A few nymphs swirled around her head. She slapped at them with both hands.
“What are these things? They’re making strange sounds.”
“They’re tree nymphs,” I said. “I think they’re trying to help you remember the things you forgot. Listen.”
More nymphs swirled around Goldie, whispering and clicking. She continued to slap them away, then dropped her hands in defeat when it was clear they weren’t going anywhere.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” I asked.
“You yanked me by my hair away from that well!”
“No, before that. Yesterday. What happened yesterday?”
“Yesterday?” Goldie twisted her fingers in her mud-caked curls. “I was…arguing with Mummy….”
“What were you arguing about?”
“She was very angry at me because I…I picked Gerhard’s peaches and ate them without asking. They were so plump and golden, and I didn’t think Gerhard would mind, but he was furious, and Mummy called me a little thief and said I had disappointed her….” Goldie plopped down in the mud. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
I breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t lost too much memory. Just a week, at most. She must have gotten only a splash of the wine on her tongue.
“I’m sure she forgives you,” I said. “I’ll bet she’s looking for you now. I’ll bet she’s worried sick.”
“No,” said Goldie. “I don’t think so.” She continued to cry until she passed out from exhaustion. The nymphs swirled around her head, rustling and clicking. Perhaps they’d help restore her memories while she slept. I covered her with leaves to keep her warm, then nestled into my own bed.
But I couldn’t sleep. The night was so awake. The moon was full and bright. It was like a crystal ball floating in the inky blue sky, magical and mysterious. The mountain peaks
formed the silhouette of a giant palace, the trees their faithful sentinels, and the nighttime creatures the court musicians. An owl hooted, raccoons chattered, frogs croaked, and insects sang in a pulsing rhythm. It was a night Granny would have called enchanted, one so full of magic it could not be contained.
A wolf howled.
Come! he said.
I knew it wasn’t just any wolf. It was the wolf. He howled again, closer this time.
Come! I could feel his words spark and rush inside me, tugging for me to answer.
The wolf came silently through the trees. I saw his glowing eyes first, and then the solid black outline of him, a shadow in the moonlight. I stood up; some wild impulse drove me to step toward him.
Was I a fool? The villagers always complained about wolves. They called them wild, vicious beasts, and when livestock went missing, a wolf was always to blame. But they never looked at the good side of wolves, how strong they were and how fiercely loyal to their pack. Wolves would never betray one of their own, but could I be one of its own?
The words of the animal charm formed on my lips.
Squeak or growl, fur or feather
Beast and human come together
Invisible threads tugged at me, drawing me to the wolf, beckoning me to come closer. I took a step toward him. The wolf stepped toward me. I got down on my hands and knees so our faces were level. The wolf lowered his head and stuck out a paw. I reached out a trembling hand.
Tree or sky, lake or land
Flesh to fur, paw to hand
Ever so gently, I brushed the tip of the wolf’s paw, and the spark that connected us suddenly burst into flames. Fire surged through my veins, from my toes to my fingertips. Images flashed in my mind of wolves running wild through The Woods. I felt their energy, their strength. It rushed through my head like a powerful river current, sweeping me away so that I nearly lost myself.
Come, said the wolf. Don’t be afraid.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Come
I stood slowly, like a colt trying to stand for the first time on spindly legs, and marveled at the wild power I felt inside of me. The wolf’s voice was clearer than before, powerful and resonant, but it was more than that. I could feel his presence. I sensed his emotions, his instincts and movements. I placed my hand in his fur, and we walked, side by side, each of us sensing the other. It was like learning how to walk all over again. I stumbled with the feelings and images that rushed through me, but little by little they became familiar, and I found my balance. We started to run, just a shy trot at first, and then faster and faster, until I was certain my heart would burst, except it didn’t. It just got bigger and stronger.
We raced through the trees, chased patches of starlight, and bounded in the glow of the full moon. We breathed in the endless sky, and all of it swirled together so that I felt small and big and everything all at once. I was the whole world and the whole world was within me.
We raced up the mountainside until we were on a cliff high above the river.
Home, he said, and I felt the familiar comfort of being at home. He led me around the cliffside to a cave opening. His den. I hesitated for just a moment, wondering if this was some kind of trap, but as the wolf moved, I felt myself pulled along by invisible strings, and my fears subsided.
I got down on my hands and knees to crawl through a tunnel until it opened up into a cavern. There was a small opening above that let in a sliver of moonlight. No one bigger than me could get in.
I half expected to find other wolves in the den, but it was empty. “Where is your pack?” I asked.
Gone. I saw a series of images, a strong pack of wolves, fierce and loyal, but one by one they disappeared. Hunted by a shadowy presence. Soon there was only one.
“You’re alone,” I said.
Wolf whined a little and pawed at the ground, and I felt an incredible sadness wash over me. Wolves were not meant to be alone. They thrived on the connection with their pack. Alone, this wolf was vulnerable and weak.
“How did they die?” I asked.
Monster, said the wolf. He tried to show me a vision, but it was dark and blurry—whatever this monster was, Wolf was clearly still afraid of it.
I placed my hand over the wolf’s paw again. I felt a pulsing of energy.
Red, Wolf. Wolf, Red.
“Wolf,” I said, as though I were pronouncing his name and destiny, like a newborn child’s, which was silly. Animals don’t have destinies like humans. Perhaps I was pronouncing it for myself—a part of my own destiny. “We are a pack now,” I told him.
Pack, he said.
We left the den and stood on the edge of the cliff. Wolf tipped back his head and howled to the moon. I joined him, and our howls twined together like music, making the stars and moon tremble.
I hoped Granny could hear. She would recognize my voice, and it would make her feel alive, too.
I woke to an earth-shattering scream.
“Wolf! Run! There’s a wolf!”
I sat up abruptly, and my head swam. Goldie was high-tailing it up a pine tree, babbling nonsensically about a wolf.
Wolf…
I brushed Wolf’s paw and remembered last night, howling at the moon. I had slept with my head in the crook of his stomach. It was soft and very warm.
Wolf yawned, showing sharp fangs and a long pink tongue.
“Run!” Goldie screamed from the tree. “That wolf’s about to eat you alive!”
Eat, said the wolf, but I knew he wasn’t thinking of me, nor Goldie. He had fish on his mind, or rabbits or mice, or even berries. Any of those would do.
“It’s all right, Goldie,” I said. “He’s not going to eat us.”
“How do you know?” she called back.
“Because he’s my friend.”
“Only a witch would be friends with a wolf,” said Goldie.
“You’re right,” I said. “I am a witch, but that doesn’t make me evil.”
“Mummy says it does,” said Goldie.
“Have you ever considered that perhaps your mummy doesn’t know everything? Now come down. I promise he won’t hurt you.”
“I don’t have to do what you tell me,” Goldie said.
“Fine,” I grumbled. “Do whatever you want. Good luck finding breakfast. I’m sure you can chew on pine needles and slurp some sap.” Goldie did not respond, nor did she come down from the tree. I was really starting to miss the old Goldie. This one was even grumpier than me! Also, her curls bounced less, and as much as they had annoyed me before, unbouncy curls are somewhat depressing. It almost made me want to try a cheering charm on her, but with my luck, she’d probably laugh herself to death. I’m sure I’d have a grand time trying to explain that to her mummy when she came searching.
I’m sorry, ma’am. Your daughter died of laughter. It’s an infectious disease. I did everything I could.
Goldie would come down in her own sweet time, most likely when she smelled food. So I went in search of breakfast. Wolf padded alongside me. I placed my hands in the fur at his neck, marveling at our new connection, the energy pulsing through me, warm and wondrous. I wanted to run again, and Wolf, sensing my thoughts, immediately broke into a gallop.
We ran through the trees, in the morning mist, filling our lungs with cool air. Wolf saw a rise of hill, and images of wolves racing to the top rushed through me, so we raced to the top and then raced back down, and it was like being two creatures at once, or one creature in two places. We leapt over logs and drank in the fresh scent of pine and morning glory and…rabbit.
The smell slowed our steps, and we grew quiet, watching, listening. All my senses seemed heightened and right on the surface.
Something rustled in the brush just ahead of us. We circled it, Wolf on one side and me on the other. There was no need to speak. Wolf sent me an image of two wolves on opposite sides of a bush. One wolf pounced on the bush, and the other one caught the creature. I was to be the first wolf. That was the beauty of a pack. They worked togethe
r, seamlessly, cohesively. One.
I pounced on the bush.
The creature squeaked and hopped out the other side. Wolf leapt and caught a rabbit.
Breakfast.
On the way back to our camp, I gathered more berries.
I called up to Goldie in the pine tree, “We have breakfast!”
She didn’t answer. Still ignoring me and afraid of Wolf. Perhaps if she smelled breakfast, she’d come down. I went to work gathering wood and leaves to start a fire. I snapped my fingers to perform the drying spell. Nothing happened at first, but then a few tendrils of smoke rose up from the leaves, and a flame burst forth. I blew on it and added more sticks and leaves until I had a good fire going. I found two forked branches to make a spit. Wolf brought me the rabbit, and with a sharp rock I managed to skin it and get it roasting over the fire. I dusted off my hands, feeling quite satisfied with a job well done.
“Goldie, you’re going to starve if you don’t eat something. Come down.”
Still no answer. Not even a sound. I moved closer to the tree. “Goldie?”
She wasn’t there. I looked all around, by her bed of leaves, beneath the tree where I had slept, but saw no sign of her. Did she leave without me?
“Goldie?” I called. My heart was beating faster, panic rising in my chest. Horrible images of all the things that could happen to her raced through my mind. Bears. Mountain lions. Cliffs.
“Goldie!” I shouted.
Wolf brushed against my side, calming me. Listen, he said.
We held still and listened. I heard voices by the river. I hurried along the bank, straining to make out the words.
“Do you promise?” I heard Goldie say. I stepped through some heavy shrubs and found her. She was right at the edge of the bank, talking to someone.
“I promise,” said a deep, soothing voice. “Anything you want.”
My blood stopped cold in my veins. She was talking to a sprite. But she should know better….
No! She didn’t know better. Her memories of our previous encounter with sprites had been erased by the wine. She had no idea!