eleven

Keelie kicked pebbles as she walked down the path toward Heartwood. She'd chased Ariel all over the Faire. Luckily, Cameron had bribed the hawk back with another rat. At least it had been Keelie's idea, so she'd redeemed herself, sort of.

She stopped in front of the Magic Maze. A group of the badass college kids who manned the booths on weekends were playing soccer on the path and the clearing on both sides of it. She detoured around them and circled the Magic Maze. A little path led through the woods.

Great, a shortcut. It probably led to the jousting fields. The path was narrow, and she brushed against fragrant branches and her fingers grazed occasionally against the rough bark of the trees that bordered the path. Pine, she thought.

A branch snagged her hair, and she ducked to free herself. Her head yanked back. She reached up to untangle her hair. It was wrapped between two sticks. It was starting to hurt. She pulled at a stick and felt a velvety texture. Then a bony, stick-light hand grabbed her finger, wrapping around it.

Was it a bird? She felt around, fighting the panic that made her shoulders clench and her skin prickle. Was it fur, feathers? It felt like sticks and leaves and moss. And it moved against her questing fingers.

She screamed and ran, tearing her hair loose. It hurt like hell, but she wanted to get away from whatever it was. She stopped next to a tree, out of breath, heart pounding. What had it been?

She looked around. She was surrounded by trees, and everything was quiet. Where was she? She should have been at the jousting ring by now. She was lost.

Something moved in her hair. She froze. It glided down the back of her head, then she felt it on her shoulder. Afraid to look, she cut her eyes to the right. Sticks. She turned her head a little. It was just sticks, held together with moss.

But it wasn't. She could see little hands now, brown and hard and shiny, and eyes that glowed from the moss of the face. The little creature lifted a hand to her cheek.

It wasn't real, she told herself. It was a doll from one of the vendors. A puppet, left in the trees as a joke. The puppet pointed toward the woods to the right.

She followed the tiny twiglike finger. There was movement in the bushes, probably some animal.

"Danger." The voice was like a whisper of dried leaves. "Run, Keliel."

Okay. The stick knew her true name. The bushes rustled a few yards away. She saw a flash of red.

She ran, following the path, running as hard as she could. Then she heard voices. Human voices. She veered toward the sound and saw light ahead. And then she was out of the woods.

She was at the edge of a clearing. She stopped, heart still racing, and looked toward her shoulder, but the little creature was gone. She knew she hadn't imagined it or the glimpse of red hat.

Enough was enough. The evil little person was stalking her. She thought of Sir Davey, who was around the same height. She hadn't seen her attacker clearly, but she knew it was not Davey.

Ahead of her was a large one-story building with massive timbers and a big wraparound deck filled with laughing people. She walked toward it and saw that it was on the shores of a lake with an island in the middle of it. A wide plank bridge farther down the shore led to the island, which was large enough to hold several buildings.

Now that she was away from the forest, she could think clearly again. She was mad at herself for running, and from what? A bundle of sticks and a manic midget in yard-gnome couture? If this was Earth magic, keep it, she thought. And the little dude was only waist high. Let him come near her again, and she'd show him some Earth magic, Keelie-style. She'd pound him into the ground.

The crowd on the deck seemed rowdy, and she was hesitant about asking them for directions. Then she recognized two of them as the pirates who'd driven by after picking up their checks earlier. Now she was definitely not asking for directions.

The drummer from the Shire tent waved at her. "Hey Keelie! Hungry?"

The man with his back to the rail turned around. It was Scott. Fabulous.

Two of the pirates jumped down from the deck and swaggered toward her. Her heart sank. Captain Dandy Randy was one of them. She had to admit they looked hot in their long boots and pouffy shirts.

"What a luscious bit of wench we have here," the other pirate said. He weaved a little as he walked.

Captain Randy leered at her, but he grabbed the other pirate's arm, making him spin toward him. "She's underage. Throw her back and catch her again when she's ripe."

She glared at him. Thanks a lot, Captain Geek.

The other pirate grinned. "She looks old enough to me." He held up a beer tankard. "To all lovely lasses." He drank deeply, then coughed as Scott's quiet voice rang through the clearing.

"She's Heartwood's daughter."

The beer tankard flew out of the pirate's suddenly nerveless fingers. It arced as if in slow motion, its contents flying out and splashing Keelie's new jeans. Great. She'd smell like a brewery.

The pirates froze, then backed away.

Heartwood's daughter. It sounded like a curse. She was doomed to be dateless. Hooves pounded behind her, like the cavalry in an old Western. She turned to see white horses gallop into the clearing, ridden by colorful riders.

Sean. Sean was one of the riders. And then Elias horse caught up with him. The last person she wanted to see, especially when she smelled like beer.

She saw that Scott had come to stand beside her. The air smelled of beer, cinnamon, and ozone. Dark clouds had gathered above them, echoing her mood.

She could feel the tension between the group on the deck and the riders. She glanced behind her. Some of the college kids who played pirate were gripping the rail, as if waiting for the fight to begin.

Sean smiled easily at the drinkers. "Great day for a ride. We've come to put the horses up-storm's brewing."

Elias eyes locked on Keelie, her lips pressed in a thin line. "On your way to the Mire? Oops, sorry. I meant the Shire."

Lightning flashed overhead, followed by the rumble of thunder. The skies opened. Keelie was soaked in seconds. She looked down, dismayed. Her new clothes.

Elia's silvery laugh tinkled overhead. Keelie's fists closed, ready for battle, then she stopped. Elia was dry. No umbrella in sight, but the girl's golden curls were perfect, and her long, green gown was unspotted. None of the other riders seemed to be as lucky. They, and their horses, were wet, even Sean.

They wheeled their horses around and headed for the bridge. Even from behind, Elia was dry. What the heck was going on around here?

Keelie wanted to stick her tongue out but was afraid she'd start a melee. When things got real between her and Elia, she wouldn't drag a bunch of innocent guys into it. It would be just her and the she-witch of the Medieval Hell, mano a mano. And somebody's long, golden locks would get torn out by the roots.

Scott grabbed her elbow. Before she could protest, he was dragging her up toward a wide, tree-overhung path. The path she'd thought she was on earlier. They passed a long, low stage with a banner above that announced fencing demonstrations, and a shuttered booth called Aviva's Shimmy Shack. A belly dancing shop! She'd remember this place for sure. Maybe she could come here with Raven when the weather improved.

A shout from behind her stopped them. "Hey, Keelie, come back to the Shire tonight. We're having a drum circle by the meadow. Inside if it's still raining." The drummer waved at her and several of the pirates waved and grinned from the deck.

She grinned back and waved with her free hand. Scott yanked her arm. "Quit fooling around. You are in so much trouble. Your dad said not to wander around by yourself."

She pulled her arm out of his grasp. "Yeah? Well, you were the one put in charge of escorting me. And where were you? Drinking with Jack Sparrow's buddies."

Did he look paler? She hoped he felt sick. Hard to tell with water dripping down his face.

"Where were you? You have sticks in your hair." He was looking at her head.

She reached up, panicked, but the sticks in her hair were just tiny twigs and bits of moss. Nothing moved.

Scott gave her a weird look. "Come on."

Feeling they were even now, she walked fast to keep up with his long legs, pulling debris out of her wet hair.

They passed closed stores and exhibit areas, and then she saw the directional sign she'd seen the first day with Ms. Talbot. She'd gone in the opposite direction. Maybe she'd buy a compass and learn how to use it.

"The drummer, what's his name?"

"We call him Skins."

"How PETA-friendly. Skins said the drum circle, whatever that is, was going to be at the meadow, but I was in the meadow last night, and that's a seriously creepy place."

"Yeah, your dad told me you wandered into Elianard's camp. Stay away from him. He's worse than his daughter." Scott leered at her. "But the Shire is tons of fun."

She ignored the remark. "What about the guy with the red hat? What do you know about him? Does he work here? He's got issues. Like, serial killer issues. Dad wouldn't let me call the police, either."

Scott sighed. "There's a lot you don't understand about the Faire. But you will. The police never get called."

"Never? As in, find a murdered body and just bury it in the woods?"

"Planning to kill someone?"

"Just you." She had to walk fast to keep up with his long stride. "What about the red-hat guy?"

"Talk to your father about him. And the meadow's not so bad. What's creepy about it? The Faire administration keeps the area by the Shire mowed and the kids hang out there. They build bonfires and stuff, far away from the trees."

"That actually sounds like fun. But you don't feel anything strange about the meadow?"

"No. Not near the Shire. This hasn't been a normal season. Besides the weather, there have been thefts and fights, and Skin says there's some bad vibes around the Shire."

"Bad vibes, huh? Now who sounds like they're from California?"

"So no more sneaking off, right?"

"I did not sneak offl I was with Cameron in the mews.

"The mews are on the other side of the Faire grounds."

"I got lost."

He looked at her skeptically. "Remind me not to go walking in the woods with you."

She almost said, why, are you scared? But instead she lifted her chin. "What makes you think I want to walk in the woods with you?"

Why did she say that? She didn't want to encourage him. Sean, yes. Scott, no way. But he didn't seem to notice. Clueless wimp.

She splashed her way back to Heartwood. The wind had changed direction, and it was warmer. That was a blessing, at least. She didn't have to be cold and wet. And she had dry clothes waiting for her. She picked up speed, almost passing Scott.

The lights were on in the workshop, and Scott went through the furniture, now protected by long tarps. Keelie squished up the stairs.

The apartment was dark, but it smelled deliciously of cooking onions. Keelie was amazed to see rays of light shooting up from the floor. For a second she thought it was another woo-woo Faire moment, but then she realized that it was the workshop lights leaking through spaces in the floor boards.

She knelt on the wide plank floor (cedar) and put her eye to a crack. For a second, the images didn't make sense, then she realized she was seeing a huge log, bark still on, strapped to sawhorses. Zeke and Scott stood at either side of the log, examining it.

A deep purring sounded near her, and Knot's furry head bumped her cheek. She stayed still, afraid he'd scratch her eyes out.

"Good kitty." The purring stopped. "Miserable feline." The deep rumble resumed. "You are so weird."

She pushed away from the floor and headed toward the bathroom to towel off. Knot followed, watching with eyes half-closed as she undressed and pulled the tags off more of her new clothes.

"Where were you when I ran into the red-hat midget in the woods?"

His eyes opened wide and he stared, almost as if he understood her words.

"And that little twig puppet? The Henson studios need to know about that technology. It seemed real."

Knot wasn't purring anymore. He was watching her carefully. She stopped brushing her hair. "What? You've never seen a chick with moss in her hair? It's all the rage in the Colorado woods."

A twig bounced from her brush and fell at his feet. He batted it closer and sniffed at it, then started to purr again.

Keelie laughed as she noticed the huge bald spot in the back of his head. "That must have been from Ariel. Serves you right."

Warm and dry once more, she walked to the kitchen, hoping for a cup of tea. A big package was on the table. She glanced at the label. Dread Forest, Oregon? She remembered her dad's credit card. Must be family.

She took the tea kettle down from its shelf and turned on the cold water. Knot sat on her foot. With her other foot, she nudged Knot. He didn't move an inch. The diabolical cat sank his claws deep into her skin. "Ow!"

She pushed him hard with her foot. He let go, sliding on the hardwood floor on his belly. Knot huddled his body into a ball. His tail twitched. He raised his backside up, ready to pounce.

"Come on, psycho kitty, I'll take you on." Keelie wiggled her foot in his direction. He lowered his caboose, sat up, and studied her, suddenly calm as she filled the kettle. She tried to ignore him, but he continued to stare at her, and his eyes began to dilate, turning into large, black orbs.

He meandered toward the bedroom curtain, then sat down.

"Not on your life," she warned. She put the kettle on the stove, turned the burner on, and wiped her hands on a tea towel. Her father had started dinner. There was a pot of spaghetti sauce on the stove, and water was simmering in a stock pot.

"I mean it, cat. Stay away from my new clothes, and stay away from me. You're beyond demented."

The cat purred as if she had given him a compliment. Something blue and tiny stuck out of a snarl of fur by his shoulder. She reached down quickly and plucked it off. A tiny blue feather. What kind of bird had this come from?

Knot yowled and tried to swat her, then thought better of it and walked away calmly, as if it didn't matter.

She lit two white beeswax candles that stood in wooden candleholders on the small kitchen table. The flames flickered, casting a warm glow around the room, counteracting the gloom from the cloudy skies outside.

Zeke came in. "Doesn't it smell great in here? I'm making spaghetti sauce."

"It does smell good."

"Can you help fix it? I've got to head back downstairs."

"Sure." Her stomach growled.

Zeke opened a cupboard and pulled out a colander and placed it on the counter. "We need to talk."

There was a knock at the door.

He didn't remove his gaze from Keelie's. "Come in."

It was Scott. "Sorry to disturb your cozy family scene, but I'm having a devil of a time. Can you come back down, Zeke?"

Keelie glared at Scott. She bet he really wasn't sorry for interrupting.

Zeke sighed. "I was so tired today that I slept and never got downstairs to look at the tree. It's in desperate shape." He walked over to the candles on the table and blew them out. No more golden glow.

Scott flipped the light switch by the door, and the kitchen light burst into irritating brightness.

"Keelie, would you serve the spaghetti and bring the plates downstairs? We'll make it a working dinner."

"Great. Spaghetti for supper." Scott smirked. "Zeke and I've had lots of working dinners in the shop. Oh, and Keelie, sprinkle mine with pepper. Gives it that extra zest-kind of how the pirates like it."

"Oh, like the pirates I found you with at the pub when you forgot to pick me up?"

Scott glared at her, glancing quickly at Zeke to judge his reaction. "Soon as we finish, I'm headed to the Shire. Big party there tonight. Drum circle and everything. Everyone's going to miss you." He winked.

He was so dead.

"Keelie. Scott. Enough." Zeke shouted. "Let's get to work. Keelie, there's a pitcher of cold mint tea in the refrigerator, too.

"Fine." She felt like their maid.

They exited, but Scott opened the door again. "Hey Keelie. I'll take ice with my tea. Ciao."

She wanted to scream. When did she become a waitress? First, she was serving rat to a hawk, and now she was serving spaghetti to a big dweeb-rat named Scott.

She opened the kitchen cabinets and slammed pottery plates with leaf impressions onto the counter. "I'll give him extra zest."

Keelie drained the spaghetti noodles over the sink, then dumped them into a bowl. Something snagged her new blue jeans. She looked down. Two glowing green eyes glared right back at her. "If you don't let go of my pants, I'll kick your butt."

A heap of chopped garlic was abandoned on a wooden chopping board. "I bet this is for you, but you don't have fleas, do you? Scott does."

Keelie wiggled her foot again. Knot studied her as she calmly stirred the spaghetti sauce, then ran into the kitchen and hopped into a chair as if he was ready to be served.

"I'm not going to give you spaghetti. I'm not your waitress, either."

She walked over to the sink and distributed three equal portions of spaghetti onto three plates. She was about to spoon the sauce over it when she noticed the garlic again. "You know, Scott did say he wanted extra zest in his spaghetti."

She strategically hid the garlic in the huge mound of spaghetti. Inspired, she searched the kitchen spice cupboard. "Jackpot."

She sprinkled chili powder on some extra sauce and mixed it into Scott's serving. "Come one, come all-a new show at the Faire. The fire-breathing idiot!"

Knot purred as he watched her. She placed the three small plates of spaghetti on a tray, reminding herself that Scott's was the dark blue one. She added silverware and napkins by the plates, then hoisted up the tray and headed downstairs. They'd have to get their own tea because she couldn't carry the spaghetti and drinks, too.

When Keelie pushed the door open to the outside stairs, Knot ran past her.

"Brain-damaged feline."

The cat ran down the stairs. She stopped on the last step. She could hear the buzzing of hundreds of little bees. But there weren't any bugs flying around to make that noise.

Zeke and Scott were in the shop, talking. Knot was nowhere in sight. Annoying as he was, she envied Scott. He knew Zeke better than she did. Her father had taken an interest in him and taught him how to work with wood. She'd gotten an occasional toy.

She stepped inside, but neither of them noticed her. Zeke's hands were on a massive, scarred trunk of a tree strapped to sawhorses, like a patient on a surgical table. He touched it reverently, caressing the bark.

Wrong. Something was very wrong here. Keelie felt the air vibrating, like waves coming at her from the tree.

"So?" Scott's hands were at his side, well away from the big tree.

"She's still grieving and doesn't want to be shaped into something else. She was taken before her time. She grieves for the sun. She wants to sink her roots back into Mother Earth."

"What are you talking about?" asked Keelie, pulling a charred piece of wood from the table (oak). She had a brief impression of lightning and fire. A figure moved in the flash.

The men glanced at her, but the big tree trunk was their main concern.

"The wood. Come touch her, Keelie," Zeke said.

"Do you think she should do that?" Scott said. He seemed annoyed.

She smiled sweetly at him and handed him his plate. "For you."

"Where's the tea?"

"Upstairs. Get it yourself."

She reached out to the tree but drew back her hand as she saw a delicate feminine face, twisted in pain, look out from inside the bark. She closed her eyes, then looked again, but it was just a tree. There was no carving.

She backed away.

"Mommy, the tree people say they know me. They know Daddy." Keelie was suddenly back in the park with her mother, small, and reaching up to hold her mommy's hand.

"There are no tree people, Keelie," Mom had said, but even at age five, Keelie knew she was lying. Mom said she had a wood allergy that made her see and hear things. But if she stayed away from wood she'd be okay. Keelie had never mentioned her wood sense to her mother again.

Zeke said, "Is something wrong?"

"It's just my allergy," she said. She backed away from the log. She couldn't touch it. She imagined the tree's despair, and it enveloped her. If she touched it the grief would consume her, and she had enough of her own. It's all in my head, she thought.

But the tree's imagined grief brought back her own. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Mom was supposed to be here, alive and strong, face to the sun and feet on the Earth. Keelie trembled. She wanted to cry.

"Mom." The word came out in a moan.

Dad hugged her. "It's okay, Keelie. I'm here for you. And I'm never letting you go again." She wrapped her arms around him.

Scott shouted, "Oh man, that's hot."

Knot jumped onto the log. Keelie stepped back, but Zeke kept an arm around her shoulder, drawing her closer.

The buzzing noise Keelie heard became louder and more distinct, like little pieces of conversation, the murmurs of different tiny voices blending together.

Knot's weird eyes were round marbles of black rimmed in green. His tail swished like a writhing cobra. His ears were slicked back to his head, making his bald spot all the more prominent. He growled, staring at the air above him.

Keelie looked around to see if another cat was challenging him, but there was nothing around except that weird noise, which was getting louder and louder. Maybe the cat was having a psychotic fit.

Leaping from the log, Knot landed on the ground, then shot across the clearing and climbed five feet up a nearby oak tree. He jumped from the tree and landed on the ground, turning on his back to paw at the air, swatting an invisible enemy. Just as quickly, he whirled onto his feet and ran around the oak's trunk three times, then stopped and smacked his paw at the ground. Then he ran down the pathway past the jousting arena and toward the lake. The buzzing and murmurs of conversation disappeared as if in pursuit of the cat.

"Is he sick?" asked Keelie. It sure looked like kitty insanity to her. Maybe she should've served the cat the spaghetti with the extra garlic. She gazed over at Scott, who had wolfed down his supper, and his face was shiny with sweat, and bright red.

"Are you going to get the tea?" Scott asked. "My mouth's on fire."

"Scott, what's the matter with you? Go get the tea." Zeke scowled at him. He squeezed her arm lightly. "I wanted to ease you into your new life, give you time before you started learning about me and about my family and my world. Guess it's not working."

"What are you talking about? What's this tree got to do with it?"

"It was felled by lightning the day you arrived. Remember, you saw the smoke? You saved some lives that day, Keelie. But this tree is beyond saving, and her magic is trapped within her. As a tree shepherd, I have to guide her spirit onward and transform her magic into healing energy."

"Right. Sort of like an arborist and a priest?"

"Sort of. Not everyone can do what I do, and you have my power within you. More than that, Sir Davey and I suspect that you are much more powerful than me."

"Really?" Superpowers would come in handy, although tree powers were kind of limited. What could she do, frighten squirrels? She was not believing this. Mom had warned her that Dad was all New Age and weird. He should have come to California. He would have fit right in.

Keelie realized that her mouth was hanging open and closed it. Tears stung her eyes, angry ones.

"There are good fairies, too, and some came to bid farewell to the oak that sheltered them. Knot interfered. Knowing that cat, he'd probably desecrated their mushroom circle by using it as a litter box." Zeke shook his head. He was enjoying this.

"Stop it, Zeke. I thought we had a great time at the mall," she said. "I actually thought you were treating me like family, instead of like a tourist. But now you're going off on this wacky fairy tale riff again." She backed away from him, glad that he looked hurt. He deserved it. No wonder Mom left his world. He couldn't tell reality from fantasy. "I'm not some mundane, you know."

He looked serious. "Keelie, you certainly are not a mundane. Far from it."

"I'm going to help Cameron with Ariel. Enjoy your spaghetti." She crossed the open area and started down the path toward the aerie.

Behind her, Zeke called, "Keelie? Wait a minute, I'll come with you. It's dangerous for you to be alone."

She waved without turning, then broke into a jog, which soon turned into an all-out sprint. By the time she returned to school, she'd be in such great shape that the rest of the cross-country team would be eating her dust. Darkened booths flashed by, their owners in their trailers or upstairs apartments. She slowed as she passed the woods on the other side of the jousting field.

A costumed child was walking through the trees. Keelie stopped as she realized what she was seeing-what she thought she was seeing. It was Knot, wearing boots, walking on his hind legs, and brandishing a sword in his front paw. And he wasn't alone. A leafy creature, all tangled wood and vines, fought back, wielding a large staff.

Keelie ran faster than ever, anxious to escape from her overactive imagination.

There is too much stress and too much grief in my life, Keelie thought as she stroked Ariel's dark red tail feathers, glad that the hawk, for all its elegance and regal bearing, was just a bird and nothing else.

She could hear her father talking to Cameron in hushed tones. He'd run after her the whole way. She'd never tell him how glad she was to have him there, mad as she was that he treated her like a baby. Fairies? Right.

Ariel watched her with her one golden eye. Cameron had not been around when Keelie had arrived at the raptor mews. James, one of the other performers, had given Keelie permission to take Ariel out of her cage and had shared his spaghetti dinner with her. Normal spaghetti, thank goodness. Zeke had arrived seconds after she had, but he'd disappeared once he saw her with James.

Reeling from the uber-strange scene at the woodshop, Keelie wondered if she needed psychiatry. No, if any therapy was going to be handed out, her father and Scott needed to be at the head of the line.

Of course it might have been drugs. Maybe there was something in the herb tea everyone around here drank. Maybe some of Mrs. Butters' crystal seeds. They sounded dangerous.

It all seemed like a big hallucination. Faces in trees, magic mud balls, and invisible bugs with buzzing voices. Knot in his little Puss In Boots Musketeer outfit. She'd never be able to tell her friends that one without cracking up. Then again, "cracking up" was not a phrase she should use too much these days.

How could she explain that cat? Every day Keelie spent at the Faire, her sense of what was real and what wasn't blurred. How did she explain seeing a woman's face in the oak log, if it wasn't a weird allergy-induced vision? How did Keelie logically explain the knowledge about trees that kept bubbling up out of who knew where? The sooner she got out of La-La Land, the better for her. No wonder Mom had taken Keelie from Dad's world all those years ago.

Ariel inched down the arm guard toward Keelie's face and nestled her head against her cheek. Keelie froze. Hawks were not kittens. Was this a gesture of friendship and trust, or was Ariel about to rip her face off?

The hawk's head was hot and hard, yet its covering of feathers was incredibly soft. She made no move to attack, and Keelie could feel that part of her that Ariel had switched on grow larger and larger, making her feel good despite the freaky morning.

Cameron's voice interrupted the moment.

"Keelie, thank goodness you're here," she said, her tone panicked. "I need your help." Cameron was so frantic that she didn't notice the hawk nestled against Keelie's cheek.

"Sure. What is it?" Keelie stood slowly, so as not to scare Ariel. Cameron's forehead was creased with worry, and she was dressed in regular clothes, too-a gray sweatshirt, blue jeans, and Nike tennis shoes. She looked totally normal. Keelie needed normal.

"Moon's been sick all day, and I know that what I'm about to ask you is going to be strange, but I need for you to do it. No questions asked."

Keelie felt her heart sink. For a second, she thought Cameron would ask her to kill the bird, to end its suffering. But no. Cameron would do that herself, when the time came. She loved Moon, the snowy owl. It had to be something else, and Keelie knew that she'd do anything to help Moon. "Sure."

"Follow me."

"Wait a minute." Zeke stepped in front of Cameron. "She can't do this, Cameron. She's not ready."

"It has to be her." Cameron looked around, then lowered her voice. "I know you've heard, too. Moon is in the meadow, at the tallest aspen, Hrok. The Red Cap can't touch her there."

The meadow, land of bad feelings. "What do I have to do? Why me?" Keelie tried to catch Cameron's eye, but she was staring at Zeke, as if willing him to approve.

Zeke seemed stunned, but finally, he nodded and stepped aside. "I'll keep the area safe."

"Wait a minute. I need an answer. Remember me? Keelie? The person you're talking about?"

Ariel seemed to sense their mood. The hawk flew from Keelie's arm back to her perch without anyone telling her to do so. Cameron shut the cage door, then turned to Keelie. "I'll tell you on the way to the meadow. We don't have any time."

The three of them hurried through the odd yellow stillness. Keelie was still wearing the heavy leather gauntlet.

They passed the children's area. The maypole and pony ring looked strange and empty. Within sight of Mrs. Butters's teahouse, they turned left, through a gate marked "Employees Only," and went up Water Sprite Lane toward the meadow.

As they went through the gate she heard drumming. The Shire was close by, and the party was starting without her.

They passed a stand of trees, and the meadow was on their right. It looked wide and friendly in the gloomy daylight, with a thicket of aspens on the far side and other hardwoods here and there. A huge rock was in the center.

Keelie could see the glint of stone through the far trees. Elianard's camp. Despite its friendly appearance, Keelie knew the place was dangerous. She could feel the sense of panic building as she approached and a strange vibration from the Earth in the center of the meadow.

From the tree where her cage hung, Moon hooted and fluttered her wings, banging them against the wire walls.

Cameron clucked soothingly as they approached. Zeke eyed the woods warily, and Keelie fought to just keep one foot in front of the other when what she wanted to do was run to the Shire and hide in a tent.

The aspen trees seemed old, and she could sense them, stern spirits, like guardians in a sacred place. The largest one's upper branches were scorched, a scaly black that looked like a vivid wound against the green of its leafy neighbors.

Even from the edge of the meadow, Keelie could tell the owl was sick. Normally, Moon sat tall on her perch, eyes alert. Exhausted from her exertions, she sat listless, her white feathers dull and drooping, her enormous eyes closed. She didn't move, even with the noise of their approach.

Whatever was wrong with her was probably beyond the help of any home remedy. "Don't you think we might need to call a vet?"

"I am a vet. Modern medicine isn't going to help her," Cameron said firmly. "Early this morning music woke me, and the birds were going crazy, making a racket. When I went out to see who was playing the music that disturbed the birds, I saw immediately that something was wrong with Moon."

"So some nut played music, then hurt Moon? Do you think she was poisoned?" Keelie knew something deeper was going on, but she didn't want to go near those creepy trees.

Cameron looked puzzled, then alarmed. "Zeke, I thought you talked to her. Keelie, do you mean you don't understand your role here?"

"Those fairy tales about Red Caps and farewells to trees?" Even though Keelie didn't admit it, she couldn't deny that she had an uncommon kinship with trees and wood, and that she had seen some pretty strange things.

"Keelie, I need the healing energy of the aspen tree channeled to Moon. Your father can't heal animals, but I sense that you can. It might not work, but she doesn't have much time." Cameron touched the owl's feathers.

Zeke looked at her. "I'll be here to help you."

"What's with you people and trees?" Keelie stared at them.

The part of her that belonged to her mother said, "Run, Keelie! Don't do it-you're turning into one of them." But the part that Ariel had awakened beckoned her to stretch out and touch the aspen. She did not want to touch that tree, remembering the suffocating sadness brought on by the oak in the workshop.

There were tears in Cameron's eyes. "Please, Keelie. Moon means the world to me. I know you can help her. Can you imagine not helping Ariel?"

"It's not that, Cameron. I don't have any kind of power. You're talking about magic, not medicine." And the trees. Keelie shivered. Something was underneath. Something bad. What did that mean?

"You've got that magic, Keelie," Cameron said.

Keelie thought of Ariel, of the hawk's bony head against hers. Ariel trusted her. She thought of her mother, who always said medicine was overrated and that she didn't believe in anything but the law.

Keelie would've defied Mom to save Ariel. To save Moon, she would have to defy Mom's memory, her beliefs. Or disbeliefs.

She wouldn't let Moon die, even if it meant opening herself up to that tree creepiness, that bad feeling from underground.

"Okay, what do I need to do? I'm only trying it, Cameron. No promises. But I'm willing to try for you and Moon."

Zeke put his hand on her shoulder. "Good girl. I'll keep watch. Nothing and no one will approach."

Tears spilled from the woman's eyes. "Thank you, Keelie."

Cameron removed Moon from the birdcage. The owl slowly opened her eyes. Keelie couldn't see any wounds, but she sensed a purpose around the owl, like an invisible blanket of mean intent surrounding her. Whoever had harmed her had done so maliciously.

Cameron placed her on Keelie's arm. Moon's clawed feet pressed against the stiff leather covering her arm, and Keelie put her other hand up to balance the light bird. Moon leaned into Keelie's hand, and she drew her arm toward her chest so that the bird could lean into her bodyeven though she was wary of the wickedly sharp beak so close to her skin. Ariel trusted Keelie, but she hadn't handled Moon before. Maybe a sick bird, like a sick dog, might lash out in fear.

Keelie swallowed hard. "Okay. What next?"

"You'll need to touch that aspen and let the energy from the tree flow through you to Moon." Cameron pointed at the tree, then stood back.

Touch the tree? Keelie shivered. On the other side of the meadow, the drumming had intensified, punctuated now with excited yells and ululating calls. The dancing had begun.

The tree looked healthy and green, a living version of the broken log in her father's shop. She walked up to the aspen, hands shaking, then jumped back when she saw the face of a young man looking out at her from the bark. This was no allergy.

"Please, Keelie," Cameron said behind her.

Keelie shut her eyes to block the weird hallucination and placed her free hand on the tree. Warmth spread from the rough bark to her fingers, then up her arm. Through her closed eyes, the movement seemed green, like living sap. She wasn't scared any more. It was okay. Or at least, it didn't hurt.

What do you seek, Tree Shepherd's daughter?

Keelie opened her eyes. The tree had spoken to her in her mind. His words seemed green, too, and parts of them sprouted, taking root in her mind.

Moon gave a weak hoot. Time was running out for the owl. Keelie closed her eyes and pressed her hand more firmly against the bark. It was time for her to trust, too.

She pictured herself opening the locked box where she kept her feelings. The box opened, revealing the dark emptiness inside.

If you can heal this owl, please. She needs your help, she thought. I don't know what to do.

Tree Shepherd's daughter, you answered my call when fire struck from the clouds. My power is yours to wield. The green light that had crept up her arm now flowed from the tree, through Keelie, filling the box in her mind. She pushed it into and around the sick owl.

Keelie formed an image of a healthy Moon and held it in her mind. As the aspen's skin-tingling energy flowed into her, Keelie kept the image of the green light dissolving the darkness that infected the bird.

She stood still, holding the owl in the aspen's healing magic, until she felt weak and her knees grew rubbery. She locked her right knee and leaned against the tree, and the contact opened the power between them even more.

After a few minutes, Keelie slumped to the ground. Moon's lightweight body had become a leaden burden.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She couldn't hold her any more.

She felt a final green caress from the tree and a faraway whisper, Tree Shepherd's daughter, then heard Cameron say, "You did it, Keelie. You've saved her."

Keelie opened her eyes and she saw Cameron cradling the snowy owl against her chest. Exhaustion filled Keelie's body, but happiness, too. She'd saved Moon with the tree's help.

Zeke leaned down, his face looming in front of her. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, then put one hand behind her to caress the bark. "Thank you," she whispered.

You are a friend to trees, the voice whispered back.

A buzzing filled her ears, as if a mosquito was flying too close. She'd heard the sound before, when it chased Knot.

She turned her head to follow the noise and saw an insect clinging to the aspen's smooth bark. It turned bright, intelligent eyes to her and extended its wings.

Keelie kept her eyes on it, not trusting that it would go away if she closed them. Too much had happened, and she couldn't disbelieve anymore.

"Keelie, don't." Her father's tone seemed urgent.

"Are you a fairy?" She moved her face closer to the oversized bug, and it skittered back a little. She held out her hand, and it moved closer and put a leg onto her finger.

Then it backed up, and a fine spray hit her face. The particles seemed to come alive. In moments they had flown right into her eyes, seeming to pick up speed the closer they got.

Keelie heard herself cough, and then everything went black.