The Frost Walker's Wolf Page 3

  She had met lots of villagers, but she’d never spoken to them. Whenever she met a stranger, her voice flew away like one of the cave bats Gran had taught her about. She let Gran do the talking.

  But not Rowan, thought Ella. She always speaks for herself.

  So when they reached the edge of the village, Ella wasn’t surprised to see Rowan march up to a farmer who was pushing a wheelbarrow toward the market.

  “Do you know where I can find a map?” she asked in a clear, bold voice.

  The farmer eyed her armor and her sword, and then glanced at Jack and Ella. Ella avoided his gaze and studied the potatoes in his wheelbarrow, as if they were the most interesting things in the world.

  “You kids in trouble?” asked the farmer. “Do you need help?”

  “No, thanks,” said Rowan quickly. “We’re fine. We’re just in the market for a map.”

  The farmer stroked his scruffy chin. “Check the library,” he said, gesturing toward a building with a long set of stairs. He reached for the handles of his wheelbarrow, but then stopped.

  “If you’re traveling north, be careful.” His brow furrowed with concern. “A pack of wolves has been destroying everything in their path. Chickens, sheep—you name it. Wouldn’t be surprised if those vicious creatures attacked children, too.”

  “Wolves?” said Jack. “That’s funny because—”

  Ella silenced him with a look.

  Jack could be chatty—way too chatty sometimes. And she didn’t want him telling anyone about her wolf, especially a farmer who thought wolves were “vicious creatures.”

  Then she remembered the tufts of wool in the barn. Had wolves attacked those sheep?

  She’d heard about wolves killing other animals for food. But they’d never attack kids, thought Ella, looking the farmer straight in the eye. At least not my wolf.

  She brushed past the farmer and followed her cousins toward the library. But as Rowan took the steps two by two, Ella lagged behind. A librarian was selling books at a table out front, and these weren’t ordinary books. No, the lavender glow gave them away. Would there be an enchanted book on the table that Ella hadn’t gotten before?

  “I’ll wait out here!” she called to her cousins. Then she rubbed her hands together as if she’d just discovered a stash of emeralds.

  Ella studied the books, one by one. Potion of Efficiency. Silk Touch. Fortune. Those would all be great if she were heading into the mines. But they wouldn’t be much help in the forest or the Taiga.

  Then a leather-bound book caught Ella’s eye. Frost Walker. That was definitely an enchantment she’d never gotten, and one she’d never needed—until now. Frost Walker would let her walk across water, turning every drop into ice. Perfect for the Taiga, she realized.

  As other villagers approached the table, Ella quickly grabbed the book.

  “Would you like that one, dear?” asked the librarian.

  Ella searched for her voice. “Yes, please,” she said. “But . . . do you know where I could find an anvil?” She had to repeat the question twice before the librarian understood.

  “Yes, dear. Right over there—at the toolsmith’s shop.” The librarian gestured to a building two doors down. Then she held out her palm. “That’ll be seven emeralds, please.”

  Uh-oh. The emeralds were all in Rowan’s sack. Ella had to wait an embarrassingly long time before Rowan and Jack finally came out of the library. And Rowan didn’t seem all too happy about using precious emeralds for a book.

  Ella shrugged. How could she explain? The enchanted book had called to her as clearly as her own wolf had, reaching out to her from the Taiga. She could hardly wait to get into the toolsmith’s shop to enchant her book!

  The librarian patted Ella’s hand. “I understand, dear. Enchanted books are treasures, aren’t they?” Then she turned to Jack. “I have a boy about your age. Do you kids live nearby?”

  Jack shook his head. “We live with Gran in the mansion on the hill.” He pointed.

  Ella could just make out the beacon rising above the obsidian walls of Gran’s mansion. A pang of homesickness pricked her heart. Gran would have found the note by now. She would be worried sick.

  One of the villagers turned to look too, and something flickered across her face. Recognition? Did she know Gran?

  The woman leaned over and said something to the librarian. It was no more than a whisper, but Ella caught every word.

  It’s them, she said. These are the children who live with the witch!

  CHAPTER 6

  “A witch?” snapped Rowan. “Why would she say that?” She turned on her heel, as if she were going to march right back to the table of books and confront the villager.

  “Shh!” said Ella. “Keep your voice down.” She had waited until they’d left the toolsmith’s shop to tell her cousins what she’d heard. But I should have waited longer, she realized. Until we’d left the village.

  “Gran’s not a witch!” whispered Jack. “I mean, she brews potions, but . . .”

  “So do you,” snapped Rowan. “And that doesn’t make you a witch, does it? Lots of people brew potions.”

  Jack’s face fell.

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Ella. “Maybe I misunderstood.”

  She hoped she had heard wrong. But there was no mistaking the look on the villager’s face. She seemed to know who Gran was.

  And she seemed to know who we are, too, Ella realized. A chill ran down her spine.

  * * *

  By noon, Ella and her cousins had reached the edge of the woods, where the plains gave way to white birch and oak trees thick with leaves. A worn path led straight into the heart of the forest, winding around a shallow pond.

  Rowan tapped the map with her finger. “This is our trail,” she said. “It’ll lead us to the base of the mountain—the start of the extreme hills.”

  Ella glanced upward, and then farther up still. She couldn’t see the top of the mountain. The sun stung her eyes and made them water. But the view was beautiful.

  Slow down to appreciate one beautiful thing every day, Gran always said. So Ella did, just for a moment—until homesickness overwhelmed her, and she had to turn away.

  “Can we eat now?” asked Jack, settling down onto a moss-covered stone.

  “Yes,” said Rowan. “But quickly. We need to get through the forest and build our shelter before nightfall.”

  Jack unwrapped a sandwich and stared at it, opening and closing the bread as if hoping something delicious would magically appear. “Don’t we have anything else?” he asked. “I had one of these for breakfast.”

  Ella slid something from her sack. “Why don’t you fish for our lunch?” she said, handing Jack the fishing pole.

  His eyes lit up. He grabbed the pole and searched the perimeter of the pond for the perfect place to cast his line.

  “Ella, what are you thinking? We don’t have time for fishing,” said Rowan.

  “Oh, yes we do,” said Ella with a grin. “It’s an enchanted pole, remember?”

  Sure enough, the moment Jack dropped his hook into the water, something tugged at his line.

  “I caught one!” he said. He pulled back on the pole and reeled in a wriggling fish.

  It wasn’t exactly a salmon, but Ella gave him a high-five, just the same. “Let’s cook it up,” she said.

  “Now?” said Rowan. “I told you, we don’t have time!”

  “And I told you, we do,” Ella said again, gritting her teeth. Why couldn’t Rowan trust her just this once? I may not be the bravest girl or the best navigator, she thought. But I know a thing or two about enchantments. Before Rowan could protest, Ella used her sword to cook the fish. As soon as the iron tip touched the pink flesh, it began to smoke. Seconds later, they had a crispy, charred little fish, thanks to the Fire Aspect enchantment.

  “Cool!” said Jack, tossing his sandwich aside.

  Rowan said nothing. She was too busy gobbling up her fish. Then she glanced at Ella, as if hoping for more.<
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  “You’re welcome,” said Ella. But what she wanted to say was, “Next time, back off. Don’t treat me the way you treat Jack.”

  She followed Rowan in silence as they began their trek through the woods—silence, except for the crackling of twigs and leaves beneath their feet. Sunlight filtered through the trees, sending dappled light onto the trail ahead.

  As she walked, Ella tried not to think about Gran. Instead, she listened for the sound of howling. It had been hours now since she’d heard it last. What does that mean? she wondered. Is my wolf okay?

  She walked faster.

  Twice, Jack asked if he could use his potion of swiftness to help them get through the forest more quickly. The second time, Rowan chewed her lip, as if considering it. But then she shook her head.

  They walked farther, until the sun hung low in the sky and the trees thinned out. The mountains that had seemed so distant from Gran’s house were right in front of them now, inviting them upward.

  Suddenly, Rowan stopped.

  Ella nearly ran into the back of her. “What?” she asked.

  Rowan pointed. “I think we just found our shelter for the night. Look!”

  Ella stared past a giant oak, toward a pile of lumber. Then she realized it wasn’t a pile—it was a weathered old cabin. Built of long planks of wood, the cabin leaned a bit to the right. But it had a roof and a door, which meant it would be safer than sleeping in a pile of brush.

  Jack raced toward the front door.

  “Wait!” called Rowan. “It might not be empty.” She reached for her sword.

  Jack slowed to a trot and pressed his face against the cloudy window. He rubbed the grime off and looked again. “I don’t see anyone,” he said. “But there’s a bed. I call dibs on the bed!”

  As he reached for the doorknob, Rowan held him back. “Let’s light a torch first,” she said. “Something could spawn in the shadows.”

  Ella reached for her torch, too. If there was something inside, would she know how to fight it? Would she be brave enough? Or would she guzzle Jack’s potion of swiftness and run away?

  Rowan entered the cabin first, very slowly. She held her torch in one hand and her sword in the other. As she disappeared into the shadows, she called over her shoulder, “Coast is clear. C’mon!”

  The cabin held a wooden table, two chairs, a furnace, and a bed. Someone had been there recently—Ella could tell by the plate on the table, smeared with breadcrumbs and wet egg yolk.

  “Maybe someone lives here,” she whispered, checking the room again for signs of life.

  Rowan shook her head. “There’s no food stored here, or coal. There are only a few chunks left for the furnace. Whoever was here was just passing through.”

  Ella really hoped she was right.

  While Jack unpacked his potions and lined them up on the windowsill, Ella smoothed out the bed covers. Her legs felt so tired after hours of walking. She’d go to bed right now, if she could.

  But then I’ll only worry about Gran, she decided. And my wolf.

  She closed her eyes, listening for a howl—or even a whimper. Where had he gone?

  It was nearly bedtime when she heard it. Jack had fallen asleep on the floor, wrapped in a wool blanket. Ella had climbed into bed, while Rowan lit a few extra torches to keep mobs away.

  That’s when the howling started.

  Ella sat up and listened.

  But it wasn’t howling exactly—it was more like barking. And it wasn’t just one wolf. It was a whole pack of them, their barking and growling getting louder by the second.

  They’re coming this way! Ella realized.

  She locked eyes with Rowan. And for the very first time, she saw fear in her cousin’s eyes.

  CHAPTER 7

  The barking grew louder, as if the wolves were just outside the cabin door. Rowan rushed over to check the latch.

  “What’s going on?” asked Jack. He rubbed his eyes. When he heard the barking, he jumped to his feet.

  Ella stepped in front of him, as if to shield him. But how can I protect him against a pack of raging wolves? she wondered. Then she heard something else—the whinny of horses. And a horribly loud rap on the cabin door.

  Rowan grabbed her sword. “Who is it?” she shouted, her green eyes flashing in the light of the torch.

  “We’re hunting wolves,” said a gruff voice. “A pack of bloodthirsty wolves. Have they come this way?”

  Rowan lifted the latch and inched the door open just slightly.

  A farmer in brown robes and a scruffy beard stood beside a horse, as if he had just dismounted. Behind him were other men on horseback, holding blazing torches. And on the ground nearby were dozens of wolves—no, not wolves. Dogs!

  Ella blew out a breath of relief, until she realized what the man had just said. “You’re hunting wolves?” she asked.

  “Yes,” said the farmer. “The nasty beasts are destroying sheep, chicken, pigs—any livestock they can find on farms nearby. It’s time to put a stop to it.”

  Ella didn’t hear what Rowan asked him next. Because suddenly, the howling began. It wasn’t the dogs outside the cabin that were making the mournful sound. It was Ella’s wolf, howling at her to Hurry! Please hurry!

  Were these men chasing her wolf? Is that what he was running from?

  Ella blinked and studied the farmer’s face. She had been imagining horrible mobs chasing her wolf and his pack. But maybe it hadn’t been mobs at all. Maybe it was humans, these villagers who didn’t understand wolves. The same villagers who thought her grandmother was a witch.

  I’ll protect you, she told her wolf. I’ll find a way.

  * * *

  “We have to go now,” Ella said again. “The wolves are in danger!”

  This time, it was Rowan who wasn’t ready. “It’s not even daylight,” she said, checking the window again. “There are zombies and skeletons roaming the mountainside. Do you want to get us all killed?”

  Jack’s wide eyes darted from Ella’s face to Rowan’s and back again. “We can use my potion of night vision,” he said sweetly.

  That did it. Ella deflated like a pufferfish that had just lost its puff. “Thank you, Jack,” she said. “But no. You should save that. We’ll wait till morning.”

  But the wait was excruciating. Ella wished she could use Jack’s potion of swiftness on the day-night cycle, to speed up the night and even slow down the day. Because there was still so much ground to cover—a mountainside to scale before she could reach her wolf in the Taiga, where she knew he was waiting for her.

  When a shaft of sunlight hit the edge of the table, Ella shot up. “Let’s go,” she said.

  As she led her cousins out of the cabin, she caught a whiff of smoke. Something had been burning. But what? She flashed back to the torches that the farmers had carried. Had they found the wolves?

  She jogged toward the trail.

  “Be careful,” warned Rowan. “There could still be creepers out here, left over from last night.”

  Who’s the scaredy-cat now? Ella wanted to shout over her shoulder.

  But when she turned, she caught sight of Jack’s face. He looked so young in the morning light, and he wasn’t wearing a shred of armor. So she slowed her pace, just a little.

  I have to save my wolf. But I have to protect Jack too, she reminded herself. It’s what Gran had taught her to do.

  * * *

  “I can’t do it,” Jack whined.

  They’d been hiking up the mountain for hours now. Ella wanted to whine, too. She wanted to lie down and curl up in a ball on the trail. But the frigid mountain air kept her moving forward. They were nearing the Taiga now—she could feel it.

  Clouds had rolled in, blocking the warmth of the sun. And then the first raindrop fell, stinging Ella’s cheek.

  “Rain!” said Jack, sticking out his tongue to catch the droplets.

  Rowan scowled. “Rain means no sunlight. No light means mobs spawning.”

  “Huh?” said Jack. “The
y only come out at night!”

  “Not true,” said Rowan. She spun in a slow circle, scanning the mountainside. “Mobs spawn at night, and in low light.”

  Ella shivered. “So we need to find shelter,” she said, trying to hold her voice steady.

  But a quick search revealed nothing—no cabins magically appeared the way one had in the forest. And the sky was growing darker.

  “Look for a cave opening,” urged Rowan. “Help us, Jack!”

  Ella nudged him along the trail. “It’ll be like a treasure hunt,” she said. “Maybe we’ll find a cave with emeralds.” Or maybe we’ll find a cave filled with bats! said the pesky voice in her head.

  The rain was really pouring down now. It bounced off Ella’s helmet and chestplate, and ran in rivers down her leggings—straight into her enchanted boots, where it turned to ice. Brrr.

  “There!”

  It was Jack who found the cave. The opening was little more than a hole where a boulder had rolled away. But when Rowan lit a torch just inside the opening, Ella saw that the cavern extended deep into the mountainside.

  “Do you think there are bats in there?” she whispered.

  Rowan shrugged. “Maybe. They’re harmless though. C’mon.” She ducked and led the way into the cave, with Jack close behind.

  Ella paused outside, just long enough to imagine those cave bats, swooping at her through the shadows.

  Just long enough to hear a low moan rise up from behind her. Just long enough to whirl around—and come face to face with a zombie.

  CHAPTER 8

  Time slowed down as the zombie stepped forward, his groan turning into a growl. Folds of rotten flesh hung from his face, and his putrid stench sent a wave of nausea through Ella’s stomach.

  Run, said a quiet voice in her head. And then louder, Run! But her limbs were frozen to the earth.

  Then a sword flashed through the darkness like lightning. The zombie grunted and fell backward. And Rowan tugged on Ella’s arm, dragging her into the cave.