Chapter 18 CHAPTER 18

Mistakes were made, despite our careful planning. I am troubled to this day by my part, however minor, in the series of misfortunes and errors that led to his death. I am even more sorry about the changes wrought by those two days in June , which consequences confounded us for years. That none of us intended any harm matters not at all. We are responsible for our actions, even when accidents occur, if only for the steps we omitted or neglected. In retrospect, perhaps we overplanned. could have sneaked into the Loves house, snatched Oscar while he slept, and innocently tucked Igel under the covers. The boy always was left alone to play for hours at a time. We could have grabbed him in broad daylight and sent in a changed Igel for dinner. Or we could have skipped the purification by water. Who still believes in that old myth? It did not have to end in such a heartbreaking way.

Oscar Love came out to play on a June evening, dressed in blue shorts and a shirt with writing across the chest. He wore sandals, dirt caked between his toes, and kicked a ball back and forth across the lawn. Luchog and I had climbed a sycamore and sat in the branches for what felt like hours, watching his mindless game and trying to attract him into the woods. We broadcast a menagerie of sounds: a puppy, a mewing kitten, birds in distress, a wise old owl, a cow, a horse, a pig, a chicken, a duck. But he took scant notice of our imitations. Luchog cried like a baby; I threw my voice, disguised as a girls, then a boys. Oscar was deaf to all that, hearing instead the music in his mind. We called out his name, promised him a surprise, pretended to be Santa Claus. Stumped, we descended, and Luchog had the bright idea to sing, and the boy immediately followed the melody into the forest. As long as the song continued, he sought its source, dazed by curiosity. In my heart, I knew that this isnot the way fairytales should be, bound for an unhappy ending.

Hidden behind trees by a creek, the gang lay in ambush, and Luchog lured the boy deeper into the woods. Oscar stood on the bank considering the water and the stones, and when the music stopped he realized how lost he was, for he began to blink his eyelids, fighting back the surge to weep. "Look at him, Aniday," Luchog said from our hideaway. "He reminds me of the last one of us to become a changeling. Something wrong with him." "What do you mean, wrong?" "Look in his eyes. Its as if hes not really all there." I studied the boys face, and indeed he seemed detached from his situation. He stood motionless, head bowed to the water, as if stunned by his own reflection. A whistle signaled the others, and they rushed from the bushes. the sudden violence, cried out and took wing. Hidden among the ferns, a rabbit panicked and bounded away, cottontail flashing. But Oscar stood overwhelming and entranced and did not react until the faeries were nearly upon him. He brought his hand up to his mouth to cover his scream, and they pounced on him, tackling him to the ground with swift ferocity. He all but disappeared in the swirl of flailing limbs, wild eyes, and bared teeth. Had the capture not been explained beforehand, I would have thought they were killing him. Igel, in particular, relished the assault, pinning the boy to the ground with his knees and cramming a cloth in his mouth to muffle his cries. With a vine, he cinched the boy around the middle, pinning his arms to his sides. Pullin g Oscar down the trail, Igel led us all back to camp.

Years later, Chavisory explained to me how out of the ordinary Igels behavior had been. The changeling was supposed to model his own body and features to match the child before the kidnapping. But Igel let the boy see him as he was. Rather than making the switch immediately, he taunted the child. Zanzera tied Oscar to a tree and removed the gag from the boys mouth. Per-haps the shock silenced him, for all Oscar could do was watch in dumb amazement the happening before him, his dark eyes moist yet fixed on his tormentors. Igel tortured his own face into a replica. I could not bear the painful grimaces, could not stomach the cracking cartilage, the wrenching bone. I vomited behind a tree and stayed away until Igel had finished molding himself into a copy of the boy.

"Do you understand, Oscar?" Igel taunted him, standing nose-to-nose. "I am you and will take your place, and you will stay here with them." The child stared at him, as if looking in the mirror yet not recognizing his own reflection. I fought back the urge to go to Oscar, to offer kindness and reassurance. Speck sidled up to me and spat out, "This is cruel." Stepping away from his victim, Igel addressed us: "Boys and girls. I have been with you for too long and now take my leave. My time in this hell is done, and you may have it. Your paradise is vanishing. Every morning , I hear the encroaching roar of cars, feel the shudder of planes overhead. Theres soot in the air, dirt in the water, and all the birds fly away and never come back. The world is changing, and you must go while you can .I am not pleased to be trading places with this imbecile, but better that than to remain here." He swept his arms to the trees and the star-filled skies. "For this will soon be gone."

Igel walked over to Oscar and untied him and held his hand. They were identical; it was impossible to tell who was real and who was the spit and image. "Im going down below to the tunnel now to tell a story to this poor idiot . Ill take his clothes and those disgusting shoes, then you may perform the ablution. He could do with a bath. I will crawl out on the other side. Adieu. Come away, human child." As he was being led off, Oscar looked back once more, his gaze disguised all emotion. Soon after, the faeries went to the tunnel entry to pluck out Oscars naked body. They wrapped him in a caul of spiders silk and vines. placid during the process, but his eyes appeared more alert, as if he delicately was trying to be calm. Hoisting him atop our shoulders, we ran, crashing through the undergrowth toward the river. Until we reached the edge of the water, I did not notice that Speck had stayed behind. Beka, our new leader, proclaimed the incantation as we lifted our package high into the air and threw it. In midair, the body jack-knifed and fell headfirst into the water. Half of the group split off to chase and retrieve the body, as the ceremony required. They were expected to pull it ashore, as they had done with me years before, as had been done with us all. I stood there, determined to be helpful to the boy, To be understanding and patient as he made the transition.

All such hopes were washed away. The retrievers waited shoree, ready to fish the body from the water, but it never floated to the surface. Despite their severe fear of drowning, Smaolach and Chavisory waded into the river. Soon all of the faeries were in waist-deep, frantically searching for our bundle. Onions dived again and again, until, exhausted and gasping for breath, she could barely climb to the riverbank. Beka charged downstream to a ford where the body would most likely be snagged in the shallows . But Oscar could not be found. We kept vigil there all night and well into the morning, examining the stones and tree limbs where his body might have been caught, looking for any sign, but the water did not yield its secrets. The boy was gone. Around midday, below in the valley, a dog yowled with excitement. Kivi and Blomma were sent to look out for the intruders. Red-faced and panting, they came back a half hour later, collecting us from our scattered posts along the riverbank.

"Theyre coming," said Blomma, "with a pair of bloodhounds." "The firemen and policemen," said Kivi. "They'll find our camp." "Igel brought the boys scent to our home." The sound of baying dogs echoed in the hills. The rescuers drew near. In his first crisis as our new leader, Beka commanded our attention. "Quick, back to camp. Hide everything. Well stay in the tunnels until they leave." Kivi spoke sharply to the rest of us. "Theres too many coming." "The dogs," Blomma added. "They've gone to ground and won't be tricked by a few sticks of brush thrown over the tunnels entrances."

Beka looked perplexed and began to pace, fists clenched behind his hack, a vein of anger throbbing on his forehead. "I say we hide and wait." "We need to run." Smaolach spoke with quiet authority. Most of us fell in behind him. "They have never been this close in all my years." Luchog stepped up and confronted Beka. "That mob is already deeper into the woods than any human has come. Youre wrong to think—" Beka raised his arm to strike him, but Onions grabbed his hand. "But what about the boy?" Our new leader turned from the crowd and announced, "Oscar is gone. Igel is gone. Whats done is done, and we must save ourselves. Gather what you can carry and hide the rest. But be quick, for we will have to outrun them."

Abandoning Oscars body to the waters, we raced home. While others stashed useful items—burying pots or knives, caching food and clothing—I gathered my papers and fashioned a sack to put them in. While a few of my possessions were safe beneath the library, I still had my journal and collection of pencil stubs, my drawing of my family and the dream lady in the red coat, and some treasures—gifts from Speck. I was ready quickly and hurried to find her. "Where were you?" I asked. "Why didn't you come to the river?" "What happened?" "We never found it. What happened with Igel?"

"He crawled out and started to cry." "He cried?" I began helping her pile brush over the tunnel openings. "Like a baby," she said. "He crawled out dazed, and when he saw that I had stayed behind, he ran off. He may be hiding nearby still." We gathered our belongings and joined the others, climbing the ridge, now a band of refugees. Below us lay a simple clearing that might fool the men, if not the dogs. "We will never come back," Speck said. Beka sniffed the air. "Dogs. Humans. Lets go." Now eleven in number, we raced away, the mournful bays of the bloodhounds echoing through the hills, drawing nearer and nearer. We could smell them approaching and heard the excited voices of the men. As the sun set bloodred on the horizon, the searchers came close enough for us to make out two burly fellows, straining at the leashes, gasping to keep up with the dogs. Stumbling on the trail, Ragno dropped his pack and scattered his possessions in the leafy debris. I turned to watch him gathering up his garden spade and saw a red cap flash behind him, the man oblivious to our presence. Zanzara reached out and grabbed Ragno by the hand, and off we sped to the others, leaving behind those few clues. We ran for hours, crossing a creek like a hunted fox to mask our scent, cloaking ourselves at last behind a tangle of nettles. The sun dipped below the treeline as the sound of the men and dogs faded. there for the night, laying down our burdens, taking up our anxieties. No sooner had I stashed my papers than Beka strode up to me, his chest puffed out, ready to command. "Go back to check when it is safe to return." "By myself?" "Take someone with you." He surveyed his charges, then leered at me. "Take Speck." We waded in the winding creek back toward our pursuers, stopping now and then to listen and look ahead for trouble. Halfway to the river, Speck hopped out midstream onto a large rock. "Aniday, do you still want to leave?" "Leave? Where would I go?" "Just leave, right now. We could go. I dont know. West to California and stare at the deep blue sea." Another noise in the water silenced us. Perhaps a person wading in the stream, or the splashing dogs as they crossed, or perhaps a deer quenching an evenings thirst. "Youre not going to leave, are you, Speck?" "Did you hear that?" she asked. We froze and listened hard. Creeping along through the brush, we carefully investigated the noise. A few hundred yards downstream, a most peculiar odor—neither human nor animal, but something in between. the water. Around a bend and in the fading light through the trees, we were nearly upon him before we saw the man. "Who's there?" the figure said, then ducked down, trying to hide. "Speck," I whispered. "Thats my father." She stood on her tiptoes and peeked at the crouching man; then she held her finger to her lips. Her nostrils flared as she breathed in deeply. Speck grabbed my hand and led us away as quietly as a fog.