Chapter 8
The Trade
A rustling sound wakes me up. My eyes fly open, the towering birch tree branches coming into focus overhead, low clouds behind them. It’s daylight. Another gray morning. And I know I’m not alone.
I sit up and gasp.
There’s a woman with long copper-red hair crouched down, her back to me, rifling through Rasmus’ backpack.
The woman jumps, startled, and whirls around with preternatural grace.
“I’m sorry,” she says in a breathy voice. “I thought you were sleeping.”
I stare at her slack-jawed for a moment. Her bright green eyes, pale skin, and dress made of leaves, flowers and twigs make her look fairy-like, as do the small smooth antlers growing out of her head.
“Who are you?” I ask, my heart pounding like a jackhammer. “Where’s Rasmus?”
She shakes her head, eyes impossibly big. I look down at her hands and see she’s clutching a Cliff bar, the sight of something so plastic and mundane in the hands of something earthy and ethereal is throwing my mind into a tizzy.
“The trees told me he needed help,” she says. “He may have been trying to summon my father, Tapio. I’m his daughter, Tellervo, but you can call me Telly.” She points off into the forest with the Cliff bar. “I came from there, but I didn’t see or smell your friend. He is mortal, is he not?”
“Yes.” I say, sitting up straighter, my back killing me from having passed out on the forest floor like I did. “A shaman.”
“I figured,” she says. “Not many mortals believe in the Gods enough to call on us. I do hope he’s all right.”
“Well, considering he left his backpack behind, I don’t think he was planning on running out on me,” I say, easing up to my feet.
“That would be your first thought?” Telly asks, getting to her feet as well. She’s nearly as tall as I am. “Doesn’t sound like much of a friend.”
“He’s helping me find my father,” I tell her. “We’re heading to Shadow’s End.”
Telly shudders. “I don’t think you want to do that.”
“It’s where my father is imprisoned.”
She nods slowly, her brows furrowing comically. “And I suppose your father isn’t a God, is he?”
“No. Another shaman.”
All this time I’m talking to Telly, I’ve been thinking that Rasmus is off taking a shit in the woods and will be back soon, but there’s a creeping, hollow feeling in my chest that says he might actually be in trouble.
“I’m sorry,” I say to her as I notice her stuff the Cliff bar into a satchel made of moss attached to her hip, “but did you say the trees told you he was in trouble?”
She nods. “The birch have eyes to see and mouths to whisper.” She clears her throat, a flush appearing on her cheeks. “But of course being a Goddess of the Forest helps.”
“We’ve already met Vellamo,” I tell her, and her eyes brighten appreciatively. “She said that if we ever needed help, Rasmus would summon your father…Tapio, was it?”
“Yes, Tapio. My father might have heard him, he might not. But I was out in the aspen grove when the trees said to come here. So I’m afraid this might be the best you can get. Do you want me to help you find him?”
I look around the campsite. Everything looks as it did last night, though the flame ferns have burned down to nothing. It seems like he’s coming right back and I know the best thing to do in these situations is just to stay put (I got lost in LAX when I was eight and that’s all I remember from the ordeal).
“What do you think?” I ask her.
“About what?” She looks puzzled.
“What I should do?
“I guess it helps to know your name.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, feeling flustered. I don’t feel appropriate shaking the hand of a Goddess, so I do a half bow, half curtsey thing that’s totally awkward. “I’m Hanna.”
And Telly does the awkward curtsey bow right back to me in earnest. “Pleased to meet you. So you want to know where your supposed friend Rasmus is and you’re not sure whether to go find him or stay where you are?”
I nod.
She taps her delicate fingers against her chin in thought. “Hmmm. Well, if you were another Goddess, I would tell you not to worry because no matter what he’s probably fine. But since you’re mortal and he’s mortal, and the trees told me he was in trouble, well, I’m definitely going to set out after him. If you choose to, that’s up to you.”
I don’t even have to think. I grab the backpack and swing it on, then pick up the sword and give Telly a determined nod. “Lead the way.”
Telly takes me through the forest, past the cedar grove where I collected the flame ferns, through mossy glens of red berries and bushes of purple and blue hydrangeas, along rows of tall pine trees whose trunks resemble iron, and where vibrant orange poppies grow in the underbrush.