The Frost Walker's Wolf Page 2

  Together, the girls turned toward the Taiga, waiting. But the only sound Ella heard was Jack, calling to her from the back porch—asking her for more gold nuggets.

  If only helping my wolf were as easy as helping Jack with his potion, she thought sadly.

  Then she swung her leg back over the wall and started the slow trek down.

  CHAPTER 3

  The wolf led her through the forest, turning back every few steps to make sure she followed. He panted and whined as if to say, Hurry up! Go faster! Follow me! But Ella couldn’t run faster. She kept tripping over tree roots and twigs scattered along the forest trail.

  Suddenly, the woods gave way to a rocky mountain, so steep that Ella had to use her hands to climb. She inched upward, following the silver tail that kept disappearing along the ledges above.

  Then the stones turned to ice. Ella shivered, her body aching with cold. But she followed her wolf through the icy plains.

  He stopped suddenly and turned, growling. Fear flooded Ella’s chest, until she realized he wasn’t growling at her. There was something behind her.

  She heard the grunting and felt hot breath on her neck. Then the mobs behind her started to run. She heard their footsteps, but her own feet wouldn’t budge.

  Her wolf crouched low, preparing to fight—to protect her against the hostile mobs.

  “No!” she hollered. “Go! Run!” Because as much as the wolf wanted to protect her, she wanted to protect him. “Run!”

  Something grabbed her from behind. She flailed her arms and fought to free herself—until she heard Gran’s soothing voice.

  “Ella! It’s alright, dear. It’s just a dream.”

  Ella’s eyes flung open, and there was Gran, leaning over her with a concerned smile. “It was just a dream,” she said again. “A bad dream. All better now?” She tenderly tucked a strand of Ella’s hair behind her ear.

  Ella nodded, but her heart thumped in her ears. Don’t tell Gran about the wolf, she told herself. Not a word.

  She couldn’t tell Gran about the wolf, because the wolf was pleading with her to leave the safety of the walled mansion. And Gran would never allow that. Not ever, thought Ella.

  A low, mournful howl rose from the hills outside her window. Could Gran hear it, too? Ella watched her face carefully, but saw nothing—not a single flicker of emotion.

  Gran doesn’t hear it, Ella decided. So she won’t understand it.

  When Gran asked again if Ella was “all better now,” she nodded and forced a smile. Whatever was going on with her wolf, she and Rowan would have to figure it out—on their own.

  * * *

  “He wanted me to follow him,” Ella said in hushed tones. “He showed me the way.”

  Rowan nodded solemnly. “Through the forest, to the Taiga.”

  The girls sat in the enchantment room with the door closed. Even with flames flickering in the fireplace, Ella shivered. “He’s in danger,” she said, her voice rising. “Something’s after him—destroying his pack. We have to help!”

  “Then we’ll have to go,” said Rowan, her eyes flashing. She brushed her gloved hands together and stood up, as if she were ready to leave that instant.

  “But how?” said Ella. “We don’t know the way to the Taiga. We don’t have any weapons. If we run into hostile mobs, we won’t be able to save the wolves. We won’t even be able to save ourselves!”

  Rowan held out her hand. “Follow me.”

  Ella’s heart fluttered. “Where?”

  Rowan led the way down the hall, past the crafting room. She walked with long, purposeful strides, and Ella had to jog to keep up with her.

  “Where are we going?” Ella asked again.

  But Rowan kept walking. After zigzagging down two hallways and then a third, she stopped and held a finger to her lips.

  They were almost to the kitchen now, where Gran was making applesauce. Ella heard the clinking of glass jars and Gran’s sweet voice floating over the music disc playing in the jukebox.

  But instead of entering the kitchen, Rowan pointed toward the wall, to the painting of the sunset.

  “Yeah, so?” whispered Ella. It seemed a strange time to stop and appreciate something beautiful. What was Rowan thinking?

  Then Ella watched in disbelief as Rowan lifted the corner of the canvas. She peeled it back slowly. Beneath the hanging canvas, Ella saw . . .

  . . . a door.

  “What—?” she started to say.

  Rowan clamped her hand over Ella’s mouth. She nodded toward the door as if to say, “Just come see.” Then she pushed the door inward.

  It creaked a little, enough to make Ella’s heart thump in her ears. Had Gran heard?

  No. Gran was still humming in the kitchen.

  So Ella followed Rowan into the darkness. As Rowan rubbed flint against steel, sparks flew. She lit a torch, revealing the contents of the secret room.

  Ella sucked in her breath.

  The room held weapons— lots of them. Iron swords lined the walls. Bows hung from hooks, above bucketfuls of arrows. As Ella’s eyes adjusted, she saw piles of armor, too. Chestplates were stacked like saddles. Helmets rested beneath them like dead silverfish, belly up.

  “What is all this?” Ella asked, her voice cracking. “Is it Gran’s?” She couldn’t picture her grandma wearing armor over her soft robes, or holding a sword in her hand instead of a garden hoe.

  Rowan shrugged. “Judging by the dust and cobwebs, nothing in here has been used since the Uprising. I mean, except for a bow I snuck out when I first found this place.”

  The Uprising. Ella’s throat tightened. Had her mother used these weapons? Was she wearing any of this armor when she’d been killed?

  “So we have weapons,” said Rowan. “And we can get a map in the village.” She said it so casually, as if she were going to trade for milk and eggs at the village market.

  As the sound of Gran’s humming floated through the cracked door, Ella winced. “We can’t leave Gran,” she whispered.

  “Well, we can’t take her with us,” Rowan countered. “She needs to stay here and look after Jack. And if we tell her, well . . .”

  Ella sighed. “I know. She won’t let us go.”

  In the shadows of the tiny room, she again saw her wolf’s face. She heard his terrified panting, and remembered the way he had leaped to her defense as hostile mobs approached.

  How can I not go? she asked herself. I have to save him, if I can!

  CHAPTER 4

  Ella slid an iron sword into the slot of the anvil, and an enchanted book into the other slot.

  Clink, clink, clink!

  “Shh!” said Rowan, who stood lookout at the door of the garden shed.

  “I can’t help it!” said Ella. “Did he hear?”

  Rowan snuck another peek at Jack, who was fishing in the pond. “Nah. He’s totally into his pufferfish.”

  Gran had stocked the pond with fish so that Jack could catch them for his potions. Good old Gran, Ella thought again. Gran took such good care of them—all of them. And Rowan and I are going to break her heart when we go.

  But the plan was in motion now—there was no turning back.

  Every night for the past week, Ella and Rowan had snuck weapons and armor into the garden shed, where Gran kept an anvil. Ella had lugged armfuls of enchanted books down, too. And whenever the coast was clear—when Gran wasn’t within earshot—Ella had used the anvil to transfer enchantments from the books onto other things.

  All of those useless enchantments that Ella had been saving for “someday,” like Depth Strider, Flame, and Protection, suddenly seemed very useful. Necessary, in fact.

  Clink, clink, clink!

  She enchanted two sets of armor with Protection. Then she enchanted Rowan’s boots with Depth Strider. Because she’s a better swimmer than me, thought Ella. With any luck, she wouldn’t have to do any swimming in the Taiga.

  She gave the Sharpness enchantment to Rowan’s sword, and Fire Aspect to her own. I don’t
want to fight with a sword, thought Ella, but maybe I can cook with it. Fire Aspect would set anything she touched on fire. At the thought of blackened salmon, her mouth watered.

  “Should we bring one of Jack’s fishing poles?” she whispered.

  Rowan nodded. “Good idea. Can you enchant it with Lure?”

  Ella sorted through the remaining books in her cardboard box. “Yes!” she said. “Here’s Lure. We’ll catch plenty of fish with this one.”

  Soon, there were no books left in the box. And nothing left to pack, except food from the kitchen.

  Ella swallowed hard. “I think we’re ready,” she said.

  But her gut twisted, as if to say, Are you sure?

  * * *

  “The golem!” Rowan whispered suddenly. “I forgot about the golem!”

  The girls were crouched beside the front steps, loaded down with supplies, armor, and weapons. After days of planning, they had managed to sneak out of the house in the dead of night, only to get no farther than the front gate.

  For half a second, Ella felt relief. So we can’t go after all, she thought. We’ll have to stay.

  But under the weight of her canvas sack, she felt something else—the weight of worry. Ever since she and Rowan had finalized their plans, the howling had gotten more intense. It was as if her wolf knew she was coming and was urging her to hurry—before it was too late.

  She stood up slightly to ease the cramping in her legs, and risked a glance through the gate. Sure enough, the iron golem stood watch, shards of light reflecting off his iron body.

  “Can we distract him?” she whispered.

  Rowan shrugged. “Maybe.” She reached for a stone in the gravel and tossed it over the gate.

  As the stone plinked off a tree branch, the golem startled. He slid sideways toward the orchard, his arms raised and ready for battle.

  “Now!” whispered Rowan. She was already running, crouched low, toward the gate.

  Ella tried to follow, but another cramp shot through her calf. She shook her leg and hobbled after Rowan. Please don’t let him see us, she prayed as she ran. Please, please, please.

  The iron golem stood beneath an apple tree now, shaking the branches. So the girls inched through the cracked gate and ran.

  As Ella raced down the steep hill toward the village, her legs nearly gave way. Her armor felt awkward and heavy, and her iron sword clanked at her side.

  As she stumbled, she imagined herself rolling, bouncing along like a snowball in the Taiga—the kind that start small and then grow into massive avalanches.

  That’s how fear began in her chest too, like a small spinning orb that gathered strength with every step.

  She was outside the mansion walls now, running away from the safety of the bright courtyard and into the danger of darkness. At any moment, skeletons might spawn, sending arrows whizzing past her ears.

  From beneath her leather helmet, she listened for the moan of zombies and the hiss of creepers. Instead, she heard the tinkling of glass bottles—potion bottles? She scanned the hillside for a purple-robed witch ready to launch a potion of harming.

  But there was nothing there.

  Get a grip! Ella scolded herself. Be brave—for your wolf. And for Mom. This is your chance to make her proud.

  She pictured her mother’s dark hair and flashing eyes, a memory that was eroding along the edges like sandstone. Then she saw something else—Gran’s pained face, the way she’d look when she read the letter the girls had left on the kitchen table.

  Gran can’t protect us anymore, Ella suddenly realized. And if anything happens to us, well . . . it’ll break her heart for good.

  “Hurry up!”

  Rowan’s voice shot through the darkness like an arrow, and it hit its mark.

  Ella shook off her worry and her fear, and just ran.

  * * *

  “Are we . . . there?” asked Ella, trying to catch her breath. Her legs felt so heavy.

  When Rowan nodded and pointed toward a shadowy structure up ahead, Ella sunk to her knees with relief.

  “Don’t stop!” Rowan scolded. “We can rest inside the barn.”

  She had chosen the barn just yesterday, when the girls had scaled Gran’s wall for the last time. “It’s halfway between Gran’s house and the village,” Rowan had said. “It’ll keep us safe till morning.” She had sounded so sure.

  But as Ella neared the barn, nervous thoughts fluttered through her mind. Are there critters inside? Or mobs? Will there be enough light to keep them from spawning? Will the farmer find us and throw us out?

  Rowan pressed her eye to a knothole in the barn door. “It looks empty,” she whispered. “C’mon.”

  Sure enough, the barn was empty—though it smelled like hay and animal droppings. Animals had lived there not long ago. So where are they now? Ella wondered.

  As Rowan lit a torch, Ella lowered her sack onto a hay bale. “Sheep’s wool,” she murmured, picking up tufts of white from the hay. “It must be a sheep farm.”

  That thought warmed her from the inside out. Suddenly, the hay-bale bed seemed cozy and warm. Ella laid back and let her eyelids drift shut, picturing herself in her room at the mansion.

  Then she heard it—the rattle of the barn door.

  Ella sat straight up. Someone was trying to get inside! Someone—or something.

  Rowan pulled her sword and crept toward the barn door. But Ella couldn’t move.

  Then she heard a squeal.

  Was it a ghast? Gran had taught her about the floating white mobs that shot fireballs. The barn would go up in flames in seconds!

  No, she reminded herself. Ghasts only live in the Nether.

  Then she heard it again—a high-pitched screech. But it wasn’t a ghast. It wasn’t a mob at all.

  “Ella! Rowan! Let me in—quick!”

  It was Jack.

  CHAPTER 5

  Rowan lifted the latch and threw open the barn door. But Jack was nowhere to be found.

  Ella lunged forward, searching the darkness. Had a mob already gotten to him? Panic rose in her chest.

  Then she saw a backpack resting on the ground. Jack’s backpack.

  “Where are you?” she hollered.

  “Here!”

  His voice rang out clear as a bell, as if he were standing two feet away. Then the backpack floated off the ground—by itself.

  When Rowan sprang backward, Jack laughed. The pack shook, and glass bottles tink-tink-tinked together.

  “Potion of invisibility,” Jack explained, his voice filled with pride. “I followed you, and you didn’t even know!”

  Ella’s fear gave way to relief, and then to anger. “Were you spying on us?” She searched the shadows, waiting for her cousin to reappear.

  But he fell silent. And then he began to sniffle.

  “I d-didn’t want to stay behind!” he stammered. “I was afraid you would never come back.”

  Like our parents, Ella thought, her heart softening.

  “But how did you know where we were going?” Rowan demanded.

  “Easy,” he said. “You were making all that noise with the anvil in the garden shed. I heard what you were planning to do, and I followed you.”

  Uh-oh. If Jack had heard, Gran might have too. “Does Gran know where we are?” Ella asked quickly.

  A tuft of dark hair shook side to side. Jack’s head was beginning to reappear. “I didn’t tell,” he insisted.

  Rowan paced back and forth. “We can’t take him with us,” she said, voicing the words that Ella was already thinking.

  “I’m right here,” said Jack. “I can hear you. And I’m going with you.”

  “But you don’t have any armor!” said Ella. “So I can’t protect you with enchantments. And you don’t have any weapons. You have to go back, Jack.”

  But she knew he couldn’t go by himself—he would be in danger. And if they took the time to walk him back, it would be morning by the time they reached the mansion. Gran would be awake and already se
arching for them.

  “I don’t need enchantments,” said Jack, his face fully visible now. “I have potions.” He shook his sack. “And besides, if you send me back, I’ll tell Gran where you are.”

  “You little snitch!” said Rowan. She was spitting mad now.

  Ella took a deep breath and a step forward, between her two cousins. “I don’t like it either,” she said to Rowan. “But he’s here now. We can’t leave him behind. And who knows? His potions might come in handy.”

  Rowan scoffed, but she was softening, Ella could tell.

  “No whining,” Rowan finally said to Jack. “I’m not carrying your sack for you—Ella won’t either. And you have to keep up.”

  He nodded, his brown eyes wide. “I will. I promise.”

  But later, as they settled onto the hay bales to sleep, Ella heard the low howl of her wolf. Was he worried? Was he telling her that bringing Jack was a mistake?

  As she stared at the cobwebs in the rafters of the barn, Ella wondered again, How can we protect my wolf, if I don’t even know if we can protect ourselves?

  * * *

  “Are we almost there?”

  Under the weight of his backpack, Jack was already lagging behind. Ella fought the urge to carry it for him. If she didn’t do something fast, Rowan might decide to send him back—before they’d even reached the village.

  “Too bad we can’t drink a little potion of swiftness!” Ella joked. If she could get Jack to think about potions, maybe he’d stop whining.

  “Hey, good idea!” said Jack. He dropped to the ground and started rummaging through his pack.

  “Stop,” said Rowan. “Don’t use any potions now. We’re going to need them more later.”

  Jack turned to Ella with pleading eyes.

  “She’s right, Jack,” Ella had to admit. “We’re just getting started. We’ll need your potions later on, when we’re tired.” Or when we run into hostile mobs, she thought to herself.

  A few minutes later, when Jack sprang ahead, she wondered if he had snuck a bit of the potion. But at least he was moving, and they were almost to the village now. Ella could see the iron golem, standing protectively near a cluster of small buildings.

  Ella quickened her pace. She had only been to the village a few times with Gran, but she remembered every moment of those visits. Going to the butcher shop for meat. To the blacksmith to sharpen tools. And especially going to the library for books on enchantments.