Chapter Thirteen: Alistair

 

The passageway through the briar patch seemed even narrower today. Lily leaned over and peered reluctantly into the prickly mess, shaking her head in frustration. The path looked dry, even after the dousing two days before, but she was hesitant to crawl through it nevertheless. She suspected that the ground was still softer and muddier than usual, and besides, she didn’t have Arthur to go before her and prepare the way.

She stood up and looked around at the silent forest, watching as shafts of sunlight pierced the canopy of tree branches around her. The sky was full of fluffy white clouds and the air was crisp and cold. The leaves were now thicker on the ground than they were on the trees, but Lily wasn’t worried about being able to find the path through the forest. Her main concern was getting through the hateful briar patch. She bent down to look at it again. It was narrower, wasn’t it?

Lily was pleasantly surprised that she had been able to follow the path on her own this far. She had been afraid that she would not be able to find the faint trail through the wood, but as she recalled Arthur’s words from the previous day and thought back to how the forest had looked as she followed Titus in the darkness, she found that the way seemed to present itself to her quite readily. Certainly, being alone made the forest seem a bit more foreign and inhospitable, but as she had followed the path, it had felt more familiar. And unfortunately the briar patch was a bit too familiar.

She sighed as she looked at the tiny hole again.

“It just seems more difficult than it ought to be,” she said to no one in particular. The sound of her voice felt strangely loud in the silence of the forest, and she jumped and looked around apologetically, as if she had disturbed someone. But of course no one was there.

“The briar patch can’t be too large,” she thought to herself. “How difficult could it really be to simply walk around it and meet up with the trail on the other side? The forest is thick in places, but surely it’s less thorny than the briars, and I’ll be able to stay upright the whole way.”

She looked to her right at the briar patch stretching over a small rise, and almost stepped off the path. But like a vision, Arthur flashed through her mind. She remembered the promise she had made to stay on the path.

“Surely he would never have given me such a warning if it were not important!” she reproached herself. She very nearly crawled into the briar patch at the thought, but paused yet again.

“But if Father were here,” she considered, “he would say that I ought to face up to my problems and solve them. Surely he wouldn’t want me to crawl through this blasted briar patch again if there is a simpler way.”

With this thought in mind, Lily stepped from the path and onto the cool, damp grass lea that ran alongside the briar patch and into the forest.

She entered the thicket, ducking beneath the sharp spikes of leafless branches and stepping over the gnarled roots jutting out from the earth at the foot of every tree. Though it was difficult to see far into the wood, Lily made quite certain that she remained within sight of the briar patch at all times, not allowing her eyes to drift even for a moment, lest she lose sight of the one landmark which would lead her back to the path. She did not look down at the acorns crunching beneath her feet, nor did she even glance to the side when she heard the scurry of little paws in the distance.

After weaving through the forest for some time, Lily’s path turned abruptly to the left, and then she was quite certain that she had turned around entirely and was headed back toward the Rookery path—especially as the trees grew thinner and more familiar. The entire detour had taken only a few minutes, and she was completely free of scratches and dirt.

She was busy congratulating herself on a successful adventure when she saw the path stretching away to her right. She turned and followed it happily, noticing the familiar trees around her, and walking with a triumphant spring in her step. The earth was solid beneath her feet, and the path was clear and promising and far easier to follow than she had expected. Autumn leaves tumbled to the earth all around her. The wind was perfumed with the earthy smells of the forest—cold wood, damp leaves, and ancient soil. Lily breathed deeply—taking in the forest’s offerings of sight, sound, and smell, and enjoying the giddy sense of having just grown up a little bit more.

She walked along for a short time, smiling at her own cleverness, when she realized with a jolt that she hadn’t seen the spade yet.

“That’s odd. It was here two days ago. Shouldn’t I have reached it by now?” she thought. “Perhaps it is just a bit further.”

She told herself to be brave and continued along the path a bit more cautiously, but soon she began to doubt herself and a terrible fear rose up in her heart—how could she be sure that this path, so clear and easy, was the same that she had followed with Arthur and Titus? Lily pushed down the panic and self-reproach that nagged at her conscience.  But with her nerves set on edge, the trees began to look less familiar. Everything began to look less familiar.

Lily continued on, for the path remained clear, but her steps grew timid, and she felt a chill pass over her body. She could feel tiny bumps of fright sprout on her arms and her knees turned into jelly as the forest became a decidedly sinister place. Her imagination took control: she pictured unfriendly creatures lying in wait just beyond the next tree or bush, ready to attack.

Lily stopped and took a deep breath. “Get a hold of yourself, Lily,” she whispered. But her words had little effect, for all at once, something told Lily that she was no longer alone. She felt a strange and unpleasant presence, as if some terrible creature was watching her...and waiting. She stopped and spun on her heels, her shoes carving deep muddy half-moons in the soft earth. She searched the spaces between the trees, hoping to see some sign of life, or at least to convince herself that no one was there.

It didn't work.

She took a deep breath, considering brave little Arthur making his way through this wood each day. Certainly he would never be so afraid. And she thought of her father in the unknown wilds of India. He would never be so timid.

Lily gathered her courage. “Who’s there?” she cried out boldly, certain that she would feel quite silly if it turned out to be nothing at all. Her head wheeled around as she looked into the thicket on every side. No one was there.

“My name is Lily,” she tried, hoping that whatever animal was watching her was perhaps just as frightened as she, “and I’m just on my way to the Rookery.”

"Then what are you doing on my path?" whispered a raspy voice from somewhere nearby. Lily froze. The voice could have come from any direction.

"On—on your path?" Lily answered, praying silently for courage as her heart drummed wildly in her chest. "But who are you?"

"Who am I?" the voice answered. "I am not on your path, am I? Why should I introduce myself to you? I am not trespassing, little girl. I am being trespassed against. It is far more important that I should learn who you are!"

"But I've already told you. I'm Lily."

"That's only a name!" the voice scolded her. It no longer whispered, but had grown full-bodied—stern and impersonal. "A name tells me nothing! It does not tell me whether you have come to pay a polite visit to my home or to make off with my possessions. It does not tell me if you have a history of trespassing or if this is but a singular offense. Now, let us try again. Who are you, little girl?" the voice bellowed, echoing off the gnarled and blackened trees.

Lily trembled. "I am just a little girl who does her best not to get into trouble," she answered with a frightened curtsey, "though I'm afraid I haven't done a very good job so far. My motives really are quite sincere, sir. I truly am just making my way to the Rookery, but I think I made a mistake back at the briar patch and found my way onto the wrong path."

"Oh, nonsense, my dear," answered the voice, softening somewhat. "You may be on the right path after all."

"I'm sorry? But I thought you said that I was trespassing. I was hoping that this was the path to the Rookery," Lily said, rather puzzled.

The voice became as smooth as silk. "In this forest all roads lead to the Rookery, Lily. This is my path, to be certain, and while you remain on it you are trespassing, but if you continue to follow it you will arrive at your destination."

Lily looked up ahead at the trail as it wound its way between the thick trunks of two mighty oaks and disappeared into the darkness. Nothing about the path felt right any longer.

"No!" she declared under her breath, reminding herself that she would not be in this predicament if she had not broken her promise. Then smoothing her face into the picture of politeness—the one she used when Mother’s friends came for tea—she said, "I'm sorry, sir. I'll leave your path and go back to find my own."

She turned around and started at once the way she had come, hoping that the voice—whatever it was—would stay behind.

But her hope was in vain. She had only taken a few steps before an old, withered branch fell with a mighty crash onto the path just in front of her. She stopped abruptly, suppressing a squeal. Her heart leapt into her throat. She stared at the limb blocking her path. She knew that the voice hovered above her—in what ghastly, terrifying form she could not begin to imagine. She longed to close her eyes, to be far away, but she knew that she would have to face the consequences of her foolish disobedience. Though everything warned against it, Lily looked up and her heart froze. The animal seemed to hover above her, so well did he blend with the grey decay of the tree. His enormous talons gripped the low-hanging branch, squeezing, digging, convulsing. His powerful wings flanked a broad, sturdy chest, and his deep yellow eyes were encircled by black rings which stretched away from his beak, streaking across his face like blackened lightning bolts. Had she not been struck almost senseless with terror, Lily would have noticed that the bird was, as evil things all too often are, very beautiful.

The hawk studied Lily from above, his head swaying slowly, ominously from side to side. Lily knew her moment had come and she dared not wait another moment. She leapt over the branch and raced down the path. Her only thought was to escape that horrible bird. But as she turned a corner, she realized that it had all been for nothing. She skidded to a halt just before she crashed into the monster himself.

He laughed softly. A cool breeze caught his feathers and he stretched his wings to enjoy the autumn air.

"Please, Lily, " he said, "you needn't leave so quickly. Don’t you remember me?”

“I…er…” Lily stammered, her mind racing.

“I thought I might have made a bigger impression on you. Tut, tut. How unfortunate…” the hawk drawled.

Lily stared at the bird, unable to think, when, without warning, her memory ignited. “Titus,” she said more loudly than either of them had expected, “you tried to kill Titus.”

The hawk laughed, “Is that what they’re calling Lord Wickersham these days? I suppose that’s fitting. He never did live up to his title.”

“I think he is a fine rook,” Lily mumbled.

“Now, now, Lily, we mustn’t mumble. And yes, you are correct, I did try to kill him. He is a nasty little animal and I disapprove of him thoroughly. At the moment, however, I have more important matters to discuss with you. In particular, your disruption of my afternoon amusement a few days ago. I was not pleased, my girl. Not pleased at all.”

Lily stood very still.

“You would have been wise to run away the moment you saw our little game. Perhaps then I would have forgotten you. As it is, I have a score to settle with you. Not only did you deprive me of a great deal of fun, you also dared to call me, and I quote, ‘You. Ugly. Bird.’ Preposterous!”

He turned his eyes from Lily to gently preen a feather or two, before chuckling softly to himself.

Lily shifted her weight uncomfortably, wondering if perhaps the hawk was playing a joke on her. “I’m very sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to offend you. I didn’t realize you could understand me,” she offered timidly.

 “So like a human,” he said. “But I have forgotten my manners. Lily, you may call me Alistair."

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” Lily said.

“Dear child, your mother would be disappointed to hear you lie so boldly. You are not pleased to meet me. But I am terribly pleased to meet you again. I have been waiting for you.”

“What—what do you mean?” Lily asked.

“You have the air of rebellion, of foolishness about you, child. I knew that I only need wait for you to stray from the straight and narrow. I knew you would come to me eventually.”

Shame poured over Lily’s downturned head. If only she had listened! If only she hadn’t come to the forest alone; if only she hadn’t left the path!

“I see that you tremble. Do not fear. Hawks are not known for eating children. Humans are too rubbery for my taste. I prefer smaller creatures.”

Lily looked up, her eyes bulging.

“I’m sure you know of whom I speak. Your little Arthur has always interested me in particular. Such a spark of life! I’m sure he would be quite a morsel.”

Lily’s trembling became more violent—but it was no longer fear. She trembled with rage. “How awful!” she shouted.

“No, my dear, how natural. Hawks eat mice.”

“But you can’t! You simply can’t!” Lily pleaded.

“Oh, I can, and very soon I will,” he threatened.

“The rooks will stop you!” she shouted.

“Ah, now we come to my favorite part: the rooks. I will eat the rooks too. Every last one of them. I will crush them with my claws. I will twist their necks and crunch their beaks. I will choke down their feathers and talons. I will destroy them.”

“That’s terrible!”

“Yes, it will be terrible,” he sneered. “I hate the taste of rook.”

“Then why…” Lily breathed.

“Why, for fun, of course! For the amusement of chasing them, twisting them, squeezing them, watching them suffer…ah, what a day that will be!”

“You’re—you’re evil! You ugly bird!” Lily shouted at the top of her lungs.

“I may be evil, Lily, but there is no need to be rude about it,” Alistair scolded.

"But what have the rooks ever done to you?" Lily asked.

"They have done nothing to me, my friend. If they had, my intentions would no longer be evil.  Quite simply, I am annoyed by the rooks and the pathetic little creatures that run about with them, and I would like to see them destroyed."

"And what about me?" Lily asked, her anger for her friends blinding her to her own peril. "I run about with the rooks too. Were you planning on eating me, as well?"

"No, my dear, I have other plans for you. But, hmm….on second thought, you were trespassing. I believe in this circumstance I have every right to defend my territory, haven't I?"

Alistair stretched his wings, demonstrating the impressive span of his limbs, and then gave them a couple of quick flaps. His eyes flashed as he stepped toward her, his head bobbing back and forth rhythmically, murderously.

“Do forgive me, but curiosity is taking hold. Perhaps just a little nip…or a large one…” Alistair’s eyes began to cloud as instinct set in.

Lily backed away quickly as the hawk advanced menacingly toward her. But suddenly she felt a gentle tug on the hem of her dress. She turned to see a pleasant little vole at her feet, looking up with urgency in his eyes. As soon as she looked at him the vole let go of her dress and disappeared between two trees just to the left of the path.

Lily had no other option. She gave one final look at the advancing hawk, then raced after the vole, sprinting from the path and squeezing her body between the two trees, just as the hawk stretched his wings to attack. She heard the massive talons scraping the tree behind her as she broke free, but she dared not look back for fear she would lose her furry hero in the underbrush.