 
Sally Startup

Tree Speaker

Bees' Nest Books

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this story are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

Smashwords edition published 2011 by Bees' Nest Books

Copyright 2008 Sally Startup

The right of Sally Startup to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Smashwords edition, License Notes

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

TREE SPEAKER

ONE

There should not have been a deadly spike fish in the river in winter. Willow stood watching her best friend, Hest, who paddled barefoot in the water. Hest was searching for a firestone he thought he had seen from the bank. Willow's other best friend, Emmie, had begged him to fetch it. Emmie did not have a firestone of her own and she badly wanted one.

"I wouldn't want to be an animal talker," Hest said, just before he trod on the spike fish.

Willow saw his whole body stiffen, suddenly. As he staggered to the bank, she also saw the tell-tale flash of the iridescent blue spike as the fish swam away.

Emmie saw it, too, and screamed.

Willow shouted to her, "Get help! Run to the village and get Yenna, or Old Jesty, or anyone!"

Emmie stared at Hest for the length of several breaths. Then she turned and sprinted away over the boggy grass, her blue skirts flapping. Her pale blonde hair whipped out behind her.

Hest calmly settled himself at the base of a knarled hawthorn tree, with his back against the trunk. Willow tried to imagine what a tree speaker would do next.

Willow's mother, Rinnet, and her grandmother, Yenna, were both tree speakers with long experience of healing injuries of all kinds. Everyone assumed that Willow would tree speak, too, but she had not yet learned how. She thought of Yenna's dry, stern voice, and Rinnet's sharp one, and wondered what they would suggest.

"Oh bum!" said Hest. He leaned forward to try and look at his foot, but then drew back sharply in pain.

"Don't move," Willow advised him, "and don't swear – it uses too much strength. Let me do the swearing."

He smiled, tensely. "Go on, then," he said through gritted teeth.

Willow tried her best. "Bulls' testicles to you! Oh, what did you have to say that for, about not wanting to be an animal talker? An animal talker would have known there was a spike fish in the water. What are we going to do?"

Hest whispered, hopefully, "Handleaf?"

"It's winter!" she reminded him, "there isn't any."

Handleaf was the only known antidote to spike fish venom. If it was applied to the wound straight away, it could stop the venom spreading. Otherwise, the sufferer was in for a long and painful illness, which was occasionally fatal.

Willow knelt beside Hest. His dark eyes had lost their characteristic sparkle. She thought, _If only I was a tree speaker already. If I could talk to plants, I could call to the handleaf and find some. There could be a leaf that hasn't died down yet._

Something made her want to turn around. She felt suddenly drawn to a grass tussock further along the bank. Getting up quietly, she walked closer to the little clump of rough grass and saw the grey shapes of dead handleaves. With a burst of hope, Willow leapt forward to bury her fingers amongst them.

Even as she saw that there was no trace at all of any green leaves, she felt something pulsing up from the ground to her hands. The _roots_ of the handleaf plant were offering themselves to her.

There was no time to wonder at the fact that she was having her first experience of tree speaking. Willow pulled her knife from its sheath in her leather belt and dug frantically into the soil, cutting off a piece of handleaf root.

The root smelled rich and bitter. She rinsed it in the river and cut it into thin slices, lengthways. Then she laid the slices on Hest's swollen foot.

As she worked, Willow continued to sense the plant talking to her. At its insistence, she put a small piece of the root in her mouth and chewed it to a pulp. Lifting the slices on Hest's foot, she then squeezed and pressed the pulp into the wound. Hest swore again at this, because it hurt him, but he had already begun to look less frightened.

Finally, Willow settled next to him on the damp grass.

"Why couldn't you have tried to get the firestone from the bank with a stick?" she asked him, irritably. "That water's icy cold, anyway."

He shrugged, and she was pleased to see him smile, weakly. "I like water. My feet were feeling gritty."

"Well that one's a lot worse than gritty now," she could not help pointing out.

It was not long before Emmie returned from the village, bringing Yenna, Old Jesty, and Nettle, Hest's father. Nettle never talked much, being a stone listener, but he ran to his son, looked him over, and nodded to Willow.

Emmie clutched folds of her skirt in both hands and wrung them in anguish, as she sobbed, "Are we in time? Will he die?"

"Probably not," said Yenna. Willow noticed her grandmother give Nettle a reassuring smile.

Old Jesty was an animal talker. He began to walk up and down the river bank, looking into the water. Several times, he muttered to himself, wondering out loud why a spike fish should be about at this time of year. Eventually, he announced that there had only been the one, and that it had gone now. He also said its venom had probably been weak because it was the wrong season.

After Yenna had examined Hest, she looked across at Willow.

"Ah, I see," Yenna murmured. Then she called to Old Jesty, "My granddaughter's found a new cure for spike fish venom. I don't expect anyone's ever had to treat it in winter before, but it seems handleaf root works just the same as the leaves."

Old Jesty peered sharply at Willow with his small, bright eyes. "How did you learn that then?" he asked, knowingly.

"I... I heard it," Willow stammered, shyly. "The handleaf told me."

Old Jesty laughed, and called out loudly, "Listen to that! Another tree speaker to follow her mother and grandmother!"

Willow could feel herself blushing.

Yenna spoke briskly. "Let's get this boy home now. Willow, you must start as you mean to go on. Remember to thank that plant properly before you leave here."

Nettle lifted up his son and carried him against his huge, solid chest. Willow studied Hest's face, but he did not wince in pain as she expected. Then Nettle began to stride away towards the village, closely followed by Old Jesty and Yenna.

Emmie began to go after them. Then Willow saw her friend step onto a large, flat stone, to avoid sinking into the soft ground. Emmie was still twisting folds of her skirt between her hands.

Willow hurried back to the handleaf plant and crouched down beside it, pulling her own skirt under her legs to keep out the cold. Listening with her ears, she could hear the wind in the trees, the river water flowing, rooks in the fields and a cow bellowing. _Hearing_ a plant was more like a feeling, she decided.

She tucked the disturbed earth back around the remaining handleaf roots and mentally thanked them. Not in words, but by trying to send them feelings. She hoped that taking some of the root had not hurt the leaves that would come in the spring. The plant seemed to reply that it would recover easily enough.

Lingering with the handleaf plant, enjoying some peace after all the excitement, Willow began to sense layers in what she was _hearing_. Behind the direct contact with Willow herself, was something else that was larger and not only coming from the handleaf.

Finally, Willow looked up to find that Emmie had returned and was watching her curiously.

"What's it like?" asked Emmie.

"Like understanding something you don't have the words for," Willow answered.

Emmie furrowed her brow as she tried to make sense of that. Then she shook her head. "It's not for me," she said. Shrugging her shoulders, she added, "No firestones for me, either. I shouldn't have made him go into the freezing water like that, to find one. It's just... I'm so tired of using Nesta's all the time. I just wanted my own."

Willow thought of Emmie's crowded household, all living in a two-roomed cottage. Nesta was Emmie's mother. She and Emmie shared a cottage with Emmie's father and her two brothers. There was only the one hearth fire and one oil lantern between five of them, so they surely only needed the one firestone to light them.

Willow and Emmie had both seen fourteen summers, but Emmie had been born at the start of winter, and Willow the following spring, so that Emmie was older. Willow knew her friend dreamed of the time she could have a cottage of her own.

"We'll find you a firestone, I promise," she said.

They walked together up the grassy bank, and along the rough path that led into the village. Nettle's cottage was more of a lean-to, on the side of the large wooden building known as 'Nettle's barn'.

Nettle's cottage had only one room. The front door was ajar, and Willow and Emmie squeezed in behind Old Jesty. They peered over Jesty's stooped shoulders to see Hest. He was comfortably settled in a chair padded with blankets, by the fire. His foot was raised up on a stool so that Yenna could bandage it properly.

Yenna said, "Pull the door to. There's a draft. Emmie, he'll be quite all right, and you can come and talk to him tomorrow. Willow, I'll just finish this and we'll be off home, or we'll be walking up in the dark, and the moon might not be so bright tonight, it's getting cloudy out."

"Oh no!" Emmie cried. "We were going to have one last full-moon drumming before the snow. Please don't let the snow come early!"

"I might not be able to make it," Hest said, mournfully.

Old Jesty laughed at him. "I think you might boy. Thanks to our new tree speaker. You don't drum with your foot." Then Jesty turned to look at Emmie. "Now, will you walk me home, young'un?" he asked.

Later, Willow and Yenna left the village and climbed the steep path home through the woods, to the Healers' Cottages.

Willow finally had the courage to ask, "So, can I be an apprentice now, to you and Rinnet?"

Yenna's first response was to say, "Humph," which was just what Willow had expected.

Yenna strode on for a while. She was tall and strong, although she carried a walking stick to lean on occasionally. She carried her healer's pack of dried plants and remedies on her straight back. Wisps of her silver hair strayed out from under her woollen headscarf and caught the light of the setting sun.

As Willow hurried to catch up with her, Yenna said, "Tell me what you heard from handleaf."

Willow explained how the plant had seemed to pull her attention, and she had felt that it wanted her to take the root.

"And?" asked Yenna, "Was there more?"

"There were other things," Willow said, "but it's hard to explain. There were feelings I thought were from other plants as well. Horrible things I didn't want to know."

She looked at Yenna in confusion, not knowing how to make her understand. But her grandmother nodded, and said, sadly, "It's the harvest of the Forest. We all feel it, all the time. So do the other talents. The animal talkers and the stone listeners."

Willow shivered, imagining the great dark trees of the Forest, and the fearsome animals said to live amongst them. Then she said, thoughtfully, "And there was another thing. Bigger than handleaf and me, but smaller than that awful thing, the harvest. It was like a call for help."

"Oh?" said Yenna, turning sharply to look right into her eyes.

"Well that's enough tree speaking for one day, anyway," the old woman added, seeming to return her attention to the path ahead. "Your mother will have her own opinion on it, I dare say."

Willow knew that Yenna meant her apprenticeship, as well as the strange feeling from the plants.

TWO

The next morning, Willow was dressed and pulling on her socks and boots as soon as the first dawn light shone through the cottage window.

Rinnet had already snuffed out the flame of the oil lantern. Now she was feeding the drowsy fire in the hearth with twigs, to get it blazing again.

"Willow!" she called, as Willow picked up the water bucket and opened the door to go out. "Don't be too disappointed if you can't hear every time at first. It takes practice."

Willow pretended to ignore her mother, and hurried out into the frosty cold. She pulled the collar of her cloak up around her ears rather than putting up her hood.

Behind her, the door creaked and Rinnet's voice shouted, "Wear your hood!"

Willow's first job, every morning, was to go down to the stream for a bucket of water. The two Healers' Cottages were on the sunny side of the hill that rose behind the village of Warner. Yenna's cottage was below Rinnet's, and closer to the stream. Yenna only needed to take a few steps from her door to fetch water. Willow and Rinnet had to clamber down a stony path, through the coppiced trees they relied on for firewood.

Willow had filled the water bucket every day since she was seven summers old. Every day, she took care not to fall into the stream, by clinging on, with one arm, to the helpful branches of an old willow tree.

The tree's roots were firmly embedded in the stream bank. She thought of it as her name-tree, and her personal friend. If any plant was going to talk to her that day, then surely it ought to be her name-tree.

She trod eagerly amongst the frosted blades of grass and wilted dandelion shoots that rooted between the stones of the path, mentally greeting all of them. Coming to the willow tree and climbing the grassy mound of earth that covered its topmost roots, she reached to touch its trunk.

The air was still dull and hazy in the early morning light. The moving water of the stream wrinkled darkly, and gurgled as it flowed past.

Willow paused, concentrating on the huge roots that she knew were living solidly beneath her feet. Then she moved her attention to the tough, rough trunk that was almost imperceptibly warm against her hands. Finally, she looked up into the crown of leafless twigs and branches. Coloured in delicate shades of green and brown, the stems lightly whipped about in the breeze. Willow could sense the life of the tree, and feel its comforting support, but it did not _speak_ to her.

Refusing to allow her disappointment to surface, not wanting to feel embarrassed and ashamed in the presence of her name-tree, Willow flung one arm around a low branch. Then she leaned out with the other to dip the bucket into the stream. Pulling against the branch in order to lift the full bucket back, Willow suddenly felt a little jolt through the soles of her feet, right through her boots. After setting the bucket down, she stood, thoughtfully, with both hands on the branch.

The old tree felt very different to the handleaf. The tree was also resting in its roots, since it was winter. But Willow thought it recognised her. There was a comforting feeling that came from it, that she had always known was there. Now the feeling was much clearer.

By concentrating very hard, Willow found that she could still sense the distant confusion and distress that Yenna had said was the harvest of the Forest. It was in the background, behind this one tree. And the other thing was still there too. That was not coming from her name-tree, either, but it was closer than the Forest. The communication still felt like a question of some kind.

At last, Willow looked up into the waving branches above her head, and said aloud, "Well I don't know. I'm new to this. I'll ask Rinnet, all right?"

She patted the trunk of her name-tree, just as she did every morning, then carried the heavy water bucket back up to the cottage.

Rinnet must have heard her approaching. She was holding the door open.

Willow set the bucket down in the larder, which was a lean-to, built on to the side of the cottage. The larder had a stone floor which kept food and water cool in summer. The wooden floor of the main room now carried a little trail of muddy puddles from Willow's crossing. Once the water bucket was in its place, her next job was to remove her boots and wipe the floor.

Rinnet had crouched by the hearth to begin kneading bread dough. The fire in the hearth cast cheerful, dancing lights on the warm reds and browns of neatly tucked and tidied woollen blankets on the two beds. Willow found herself a dry piece of yesterday's bread to eat. Then she tried to explain about the plants.

"It was urgent!" she finished. "I'm sure it was."

Rinnet continued to pound and fold the dough. "I've not noticed anything," she said. "Your senses are very raw when you first start. You may just be picking up on things between the plants themselves, and not important to us. But I'll go to Yenna this morning and we'll listen together. Maybe there's something we've missed for not looking."

"I know it's important," Willow insisted. Then she remembered to add, "and I will be apprenticed now, won't I?"

"I think your father was hoping to have you work with him in the mill for a while," Rinnet answered, doubtfully.

Willow's father was Frost, the village miller. Frost lived at the mill-house with a very young woman, called Anna. There had been a boy apprenticed to Frost, but he had run away. It was said the boy had run from his own mother, not from Frost. But now Frost was working too hard, according to Rinnet.

"Anna can help in the mill," said Willow firmly.

Rinnet sighed, still pounding the bread. "I'm afraid not. Yenna tells me Anna's pregnant."

"Oh!" said Willow. "So the baby will be my half brother or sister."

Rinnet lifted the bread bowl onto the edge of the hearth, where she would leave it to rise. She straightened up, pushing a strand of hair from her eyes with a floury hand.

"Yes, I suppose it will," she agreed, quietly. "An apprentice would have to help with the birth. I think you're too young for that."

Then Rinnet went to see Yenna about the strange plant message. So Willow was left to watch the bread, and go out and feed the chickens, and put soaked beans to boil, and cut a cabbage from the garden.

"Miserable goat," Willow muttered crossly to herself. Her mother always made decisions for the two of them without consulting Willow.

As she worked, Willow determinedly stayed alert to the plants around her. As well as all the wild plants and the garden plants outdoors, there were many dried herbs and other medicines kept in the cottage.

Even when she cut the cabbage, she was also curious and could not resist trying to _listen_. Rinnet had taught her that a plant's sense of separation is different to that of people. So one cabbage was only one little part of all cabbages. The true death of Cabbage could only happen with the death of every cabbage, everywhere.

Nevertheless, Willow was careful to give something back in return for the cabbage that she and Rinnet would eat for their evening meal. She poured the soaking water from the beans onto the earth of the vegetable patch.

When the bread was baked, Willow ate some if it hot. Then she decided that Rinnet and Yenna had been in private for long enough, and walked along the short path between the Healers' Cottages to find them.

Yenna's two goats, Goldnose and Dream, greeted Willow as she passed their pen, so she stopped to pat their heads.

"Hello, you two daft nannies," Willow said to the goats, while she looked towards her grandmother's cottage.

The two women were sitting on Yenna's doorstep, in the winter sunshine. The cottage door was open behind them, and they were deep in discussion.

Willow left the goats, hurrying across to join the women.

"Well?" she asked. "What is it? What are the plants saying?"

"We have no idea," Yenna replied. "All we can do is wait and see. No doubt we'll find out sooner than we'd like."

"You're lying!" Willow cried. "I'm not a child. I'm a tree speaker too. You have to tell me, or how can I learn anything?"

"Not by letting loose that temper of yours," Rinnet said, sharply. "Now sit down, quietly, and you might learn something."

Willow sat down sullenly beside Yenna, on the doorstep.

Yenna turned her face into the sun and half-closed her eyes. She said, "The sun's warm. Enjoy it while you can, young'un. And listen. Your mother and I have heard plants all morning, indoors and out. The dried plants and the medicines indoors tell us about themselves and echo the harvest of the Forest, but not this new thing. The plants still growing are all wanting to tell us something. There's trouble somewhere. Some of them want to help."

Willow was interested, and forgot to be angry. She asked, "Do you mean they want to be picked, even in winter?"

"Some of them," Rinnet answered. "Dew weed, fever bark, goldenleaf, hedge winnow, jessop fern. What does that tell you?"

"Fevers," Willow said, and shivered.

Yenna nodded in satisfaction. "Good. All of them fever herbs, and some for coughs, too. But that's all we know, so try not to worry about it. You and Rinnet will pick herbs and make medicines until the snow. I will keep listening. There's no more any of us can do at present."

Willow was about to protest, but Rinnet said, quickly, "You want to go drumming tomorrow, don't you? We'll _all_ stay overnight in the village, so that your grandmother and I can talk to the elders. It may be that you ought to be apprenticed, since we don't know what we might be needing fever herbs for. It'll be for the elders to decide."

Willow spent the rest of the day helping Rinnet to gather herbs growing around the Healers' Cottages and along the stream bank. Picking in winter was uncomfortable and difficult. Few leaves could withstand frost, and those that did were small and weak. Roots had to be dug from earth that was packed hard, wet and cold. Only the fever bark was straightforward, as winter was the right time to cut it anyway.

That evening, Willow pulled her drum out from under her bed. It was sadly neglected, dusty and dotted with specks of mildew. She took it to the hearth, inspecting it in firelight and lamplight.

"I think I might just keep the fire at the drumming," she said, giving the drum a cautious tap.

"Well oil that poor drum, anyway," Rinnet instructed her. "What would Old Jesty say if he knew how you treat it? He made it for you himself."

Willow's drum was bowl-shaped, made of wood and hide. There was a rainbow painted on the wood with coloured dyes. She smoothed dust off the colours, smiling. Old Jesty had first presented it to her when she was only five summers old. She had carried it everywhere with her, then. And played it everywhere, too, until Rinnet had begged her to stop.

"Here," Rinnet said. She had taken a jar of nut oil from the herb cupboard and placed it on the worktable.

Willow sat down on a stool. She began to rub oil into the drum with her fingers. Above the table was the only window. In the daytime, it gave light to work by. Now, it let in a cold draft, despite the tightly closed shutter. Willow worked quickly and rubbed the drum vigorously, trying to warm herself.

She said, "Flax is leading the drumming."

"He'll be a master soon," her mother replied.

Willow guessed her mother was probably also thinking, _Not bad for a son of Nitta's_. Flax's older brother, Guern, had been Frost's apprentice at the mill, before running away. Most people agreed that Nitta was the one he had been running from.

"Emmie told me Nitta smashed Flax's drum to bits," Willow said. "But he made a new one and now he hides it somewhere she can't find it."

"I wouldn't know about that," Rinnet answered quietly, from her chair by the hearth, "but I'm sure Old Jesty keeps an eye on things."

"Flax is old enough to leave Nitta's cottage," Willow argued. "He should go before she drives him out of the village like Guern. He's a good drummer. Warner needs him. Nitta's the worst person in the village apart from Druse."

Rinnet did not respond, although Willow knew that Druse and Rinnet hated one another. Instead, Rinnet fetched a rag for Willow to wipe her oily hands on.

"Time for bed, now, Willow," she said. "You won't get much sleep tomorrow, if you're going drumming. And, if you want to be an apprentice, you can start tomorrow morning. You can go with Yenna when she visits Goshi."

Willow stared at her mother.

"Well, do you want to be a tree speaker's apprentice or not?" Rinnet asked. "Tree speakers are healers, and healers go where they're needed. You can't pick and choose."

That night, Willow did not sleep well. Druse and Nitta might be the worst people in the village, but Goshi lived outside it. He was the worst person she had ever met.

THREE

Willow helped Yenna to feed Goldnose and Dream, then lifted her small travelling pack onto her own shoulders. Yenna's pack held all the herbs and medicines they might need. Willow's contained her drum and some food.

Goshi lived alone in his house on Screed Hill, beyond Warner. They would visit him in the morning, then stay in the village until the drumming and the elders' meeting.

Yenna would spend the night at Minty's house, which was the closest thing the village had to an inn. Minty was a sociable man, who loved to cook and brew. Any traveller needing to spend the night in Warner was welcome at Minty's, and any villager wanting company and gossip soon found their way to his fireside.

Rinnet would shut up the goats and the chickens before sunset, and then walk down to Minty's to join Yenna. Willow would spend the night in Nettle's barn with Emmie and Hest.

It was still early morning when Yenna strode down the woodland path towards Warner, using her stick for balance. Willow followed reluctantly.

It was frosty, but not cold enough to have hardened all the mud on the path. Sometimes, she had to cling to nearby branches to stop herself from slipping. She was too miserable to open her senses to the plant voices.

In the village, everyone was busy. There was a choking smell of wood smoke. Morning fires blazed in all the cottages, and the wind pulled the smoke down again as soon as it left the chimneys.

They met Old Jesty, who was off to talk to the owner of an injured horse. Jesty assured them that Hest was well, and hardly even limping.

Another of the elders, Henty the riverman, stopped to ask Willow about the spike fish, and shook his head gravely as she told him what had happened.

"Spike fish in winter. Never before in my lifetime," he whispered, sadly. "All's changing, young'un."

Willow followed her grandmother across the river by the cart bridge, then onto the stony path up Screed Hill. Here, the land was rough and scrubby, and dotted with twisted hawthorn and rockgripper trees. Although the sun was high in the sky, the hillside was still in shade. Emmie had told Willow the villagers said parts of Goshi's land were never touched by sunlight. She wished Emmie could be with her now.

Willow's feet began to hurt from walking on stones, and she was frightened.

She stubbed her toe on a rock and said loudly, "Oh rat's piss!"

"Less of that, my girl!" was Yenna's instant response. But then she added, "We'll rest and eat something before we go on to the house. It takes a bit of strength to deal with the old man, and he won't offer us anything."

They leaned against a large boulder to keep out of the wind. Yenna reached into Willow's pack for two wrinkled apples, and two packages of bread and goat's cheese wrapped in burdock leaves. Willow and her grandmother ate quickly, before Yenna's legs could chill and stiffen from standing still.

Yenna flung her apple core away onto the bleak hillside for the birds to find. "Anyway," she said then, "it's not nice to rats, using them to swear with. They're persecuted enough as it is."

"I hate rats and their piss stinks," Willow muttered under her breath as they walked on.

Everything about Goshi's house was grey. The walls were grey stone and the roof was grey slate. The door and window frames were homewood, weathered silver with age. Remnants of very old curtains hung at the windows, their original colours long faded. In front of the house, a low, tumbling, stone wall marked out what might once have been a garden. Now, there was only scrubby grass and more stones. Behind the house, Screed Hill rose dismally onward.

Yenna tucked a wayward strand of silver hair behind her headscarf. "Follow me," she said. "Keep quiet, and learn." Stepping through a fallen part of the garden wall, she walked up to the front door and knocked.

Willow came to stand beside her grandmother, who waited, straight-backed, for what seemed a long time. Eventually, there were bangings and mutterings from the other side of the door. They waited some more. Finally, the door was opened.

Goshi stood in his doorway and glared at them, sourly. He was a large, broad-shouldered man, but he stooped, so that he appeared shorter than Yenna. He leaned on a walking stick heavily, making his spine seem to bend sideways.

He was old, but not as old as Yenna. His beard and hair were as grey as his house. Goshi's face was deeply lined. His skin had a yellowish look that Willow did not think was healthy. His clothes were tatty and stained. A very unpleasant smell seemed to be seeping out of the open doorway.

"Oh, it's you," he said. "What's that you've brought?"

Yenna answered, briskly, "You watched us climb the hill from the windows. You always do. This is my granddaughter, Willow, as you know already. You've seen her in the village. We haven't got a lot of time, so if you want your foot looked at, you'd better let us in."

Goshi leaned towards Willow until his face was level with hers. He peered at her with his watery eyes. She tried not to breathe in.

"Don't look so scared, girl," the old man said. "I don't bite children unless I'm hungry. And you're lucky, 'cause I've just had my breakfast."

Finally, he shuffled back inside. "Come in, then," he grumbled.

The front door led into a little room with nothing in it but dust and dirt. They followed Goshi into a larger room with a fireplace.

"Build that fire up, Willow," ordered Yenna, immediately.

"Eh!" cried Goshi. "Less of that! I don't want my firewood wasted. I've got to last a whole winter up here."

Willow hesitated, but Yenna snapped back, "Rubbish! You've got plenty, and if you haven't, it's your own fault anyway. Stone floor and stone walls – it's colder than an ice cave in here!"

Willow began, timidly, to see to the fire.

Meanwhile, Yenna removed a pair of trousers even filthier than the ones Goshi was wearing, from the seat of a high-backed chair. "Now sit down and show me your foot, old man," she told him.

As Yenna peeled off his sock, Goshi whined. "It hurts! Don't touch it!"

Willow almost felt sorry for him. His big toe certainly was swollen and red.

He moaned and shouted until Yenna snapped at him again. "Hush up, or I'll tell everyone in the village what a big baby you are!"

Once the fire was stacked with enough wood to burn steadily until the afternoon, Willow collected five unwashed ale mugs from the floor.

"Take them out and wash them," instructed Yenna. "There's a spring outside the back door. That's why your foot hurts, you old fool! Ale's not good for gout."

Willow was only too glad to escape the smell of Goshi's feet. She opened a door and found herself in a larder. To get outdoors, she had to squeeze past two ale barrels, two flour sacks, a whole ham hanging from the ceiling, and shelves stocked with food.

On the shelf Goshi seemed to be currently using, there were stale breadcrumbs, cheese and bacon rinds, a bowl with scrapings of lard in the bottom, and mouse droppings. More neatly arranged on other shelves were jars of honey and preserves, a whole round of hard cheese tightly wrapped in nettle leaves, and dark bottles that looked as if they might contain oils or wine, or grain alcohol. And there were many small sacks of nuts and berries, spilling some of their contents from little nibbled holes.

Willow thought there must be enough food here to see a whole village family through the winter. Finally reaching the back door at the far end of the larder, she smelled something intriguing. She looked along the shelf that was level with her nose and found a very small pouch. Carefully lifting it, she sniffed, enjoying the smell of spices.

Minty sometimes had spices in his kitchen, donated by travellers who had stayed at his house. He let children smell them as a special treat and used them to flavour his winter warming ales. Willow knew that spices came from plants that grew in far away places. They were carried to the Spice City by merchants, and bought there by rich people with coins. Perhaps Goshi had coins.

At the thought of the horrible old man, she quickly replaced the spices on their shelf. She was too scared of him to make any attempt to _hear_ them.

Hurrying outside, she found a green rockgripper twig. Peeling and fraying out the wood at one end of it, she made a brush for scrubbing the ale mugs. Then she returned to the larder and collected Goshi's water bucket, which was growing green slime around the edges.

On her return to Goshi's fireplace, Willow felt bolder. "Your clean mugs are in the larder," she told him. "I scrubbed and refilled the bucket, too."

"What's it doing here?" Goshi asked Yenna, without even looking at Willow. "I asked for a tree speaker to look at my foot, not a cottager the size of a mouse."

Yenna sighed. "Willow is going to be my apprentice, and Rinnet's," she explained. "She is a tree speaker, now." Then Yenna told Goshi about the spike fish and the handleaf.

After hearing about the spike fish, Goshi suddenly stopped scowling and looked almost interested.

"Well, if that's not got something to do with the Harvesters then I'm a new-hatched duckling!" he said. "Serves 'em right. They've got to learn they can't go messing things about without there being consequences, see. Now, what I'm interested in, is what's going to happen to the rats."

Willow was fascinated. He seemed about to begin a talk as long as the ones Rinnet gave when she was teaching Willow about medicines.

Then Yenna interrupted him. "Well, we've got to get on, old man," she put in quickly. "Drink some redberry tea instead of ale and your foot will see you through the winter."

They left him two jars of ointment from Yenna's pack. Willow hurried to follow her grandmother out of the filthy house. Even outside, Yenna refused to answer Willow's questions about the Harvesters and the rats.

Like everyone else, Willow knew about the Harvesters, who came from the Spice City. There, they had reportedly poisoned all the rats.

Harvesters were responsible for the harvest of the Forest. Willow did not understand why Goshi seemed to think anything else could happen to the city rats after what the Harvesters had already done.

Something else was also bothering Willow. As she followed Yenna down the steep and stony path back towards the village, she asked, "Did he give you anything?"

Yenna answered shortly, "No."

Willow was shocked. Not to give anything in return for a tree speaker's help was scandalous. People always gave Yenna and Rinnet something. It might be food, lamp oil, candles, vegetable seeds, soap, or cloth. Or an offer to chop firewood, or repair something at the Healers' Cottages.

Nettle had even given Yenna a hare's skin for caring for Hest after the spike fish sting.

"Goshi's a right dung-chewer!" Willow said loudly.

"Don't judge him, Willow," Yenna replied. "A healer must never judge. He asked for our help, that's all there is to it."

A little while later, having pushed away most of her anger, Willow asked, "Yenna, there's an awful lot of food in Goshi's larder. But he's got no vegetable garden and he doesn't keep any animals. Does he carry it all up from the village himself?"

"Druse brings it, I expect," said Yenna.

Willow was startled. She knew Druse as a nosey, gossipy old busybody. Druse was the very last person Willow could imagine Goshi inviting into his house.

Yenna looked round and burst out laughing. "Don't tell me there's a piece of village gossip your friend Emmie hasn't passed on to you yet? Didn't you know? Druse used to live in that house with Goshi!"

"Druse!" Willow cried. "Why?"

"How should I know why two people fall in love when they're young and foolish?" Yenna answered, still laughing. "But I do know that they lived together in that house. I think they were happy for a while. But Goshi got too grumpy or Druse got too bossy, and she left."

Turning, Yenna pointed back up Screed Hill, beyond the slate roof of Goshi's house.

"See where those rooks are circling," she said, "those rockgripper saplings, seeming to grow out of a pile of tumbled rocks?"

"Yes."

"That's a quarry," Yenna continued. "Goshi's grandfather and great grandfather, and his aunts and uncles, and great-aunts and great-uncles, mined stone there. His house is built from it."

"Were they stone listeners?" Willow asked.

"Not that I know of. No, just quarrypeople. A stone listener might have saved them. There was a bad accident. Goshi's father was the only one left alive. No one's touched the quarry since then. Druse wanted Goshi to open it up again. She had dreams of selling stones and metal ores to the city, and getting rich with coins. That's what they fell out over. The woman never could understand that you can't just _use_ people. Goshi doesn't talk about the quarry. It's a place of pain for him."

FOUR

Willow was comfortably settled in a nest of furs on the floor of Nettle's barn. Beside her, Emmie sat cross-legged in a similar nest, with a blue and red blanket around her shoulders.

The barn was dark and draughty, with just two small windows. The walls were lined with hooks, from which hung ropes and harnesses for hauling stones. At one end, shrouded in cobwebs and shadows, was the cart used to carry really big stones back to the village. At the other, Hest had built himself a shelf under one of the windows. Next to it was a small stove, around which the three friends were gathered. The furs were the result of Nettle's frequent trips alone in the hills or along the river valley. While _listening_ for useful stones, he would sometimes set out traps for animals.

Hest searched his shelf for interesting ingredients to make a warming tea, before it was time to go to the drumming. His foot seemed almost healed, already. Willow knew that he still wore a padded bandage to protect the wound, but it was hidden inside his boot.

"Redberries with a pinch of wayfarer's bark, some honey, and just a touch of last year's best cider," he said, and began adding things to the steaming kettle on the stove top.

Then Willow asked Emmie whether she knew about Druse and Goshi. Emmie did, of course.

"Well, I never told you, Willow," she explained, "because I thought everybody knew. You really should come to the village more often, then you'd be able to keep up."

Emmie shook her head. A beam of evening sunlight coming through the little window shone on her hair. Emmie's long curls were the colour of ripened barley.

"And now you're going to be apprenticed," she added. "We'll never see you now. You'll spend all your time visiting sick people. And talking to plants and making medicines, and looking at crops and gardens."

Willow smiled. "And I'll have to listen to Rinnet and Yenna endlessly teaching, and remember everything, and write it all down in a book. But Emmie, you're learning too. How are you going to manage a cottage on your own, otherwise?"

Emmie pulled a face at that. "This new moon, I learned how to butcher a pig," she said. "When I've got my own cottage, I won't have a pig. I'll keep bees and swap some honey for a ham every winter, thank you very much."

Hest passed each of them a very hot mug of tea.

"Don't breathe the fumes," he warned, "they'll knock you over. Are you jealous, Emmie? You might have a talent. Maybe you're an animal talker."

Emmie gave a small scream. "Hest!" she cried. "Don't be horrible! How could I eat ham? I don't know if I could even eat cheese or honey if I could hear animals."

"Old Jesty manages," said Hest. "But I wouldn't like it. That's what I was going to say before the spike fish stung me. I wouldn't want to be an animal talker because the small animals have to live so fast. Imagine talking to a shrew. Or what about a shimmerfly? They live their whole lives between one sunrise and sunset."

Emmie sighed. "But you'll be a stone listener, Hest. Everyone says so. We must be to rocks what a shimmerfly is to us."

Willow carefully rested her mug on the stone floor in front of her. She could smell the cider, and the sharp scent of wayfarer's bark.

"What about rats, then?" she asked. "Goshi said he was interested in what's going to happen to the rats."

"I hate rats," Emmie said, glancing around at the shadowy corners of the barn, where countless rats could easily be hiding.

Hest settled himself on a third pile of furs and sipped his tea.

He grinned, happily. "Tasty!" he pronounced. "Well, all the rats in the city are dead. Does he mean our rats? Maybe the Harvesters will come out into the villages and poison all of _our_ rats now. After all, the Harvesters don't believe in talents. And if you don't believe in animal talkers, how else are you going to protect the grain store from rats?"

Emmie shuddered dramatically. "Would they really do that? I don't think I'd like Harvesters here. What would happen to Nettle, and Old Jesty, and to you, Willow?"

Then Emmie suddenly leapt across into Willow's nest of furs to hug her tightly. Willow laughed. The thought of Harvesters in Warner frightened her, too. But at least the prospect of them had cured Emmie's jealousy.

"Did you hear any news from Rummy the Trail, Emmie?" Hest asked, a little later. "I was resting my foot when he came."

"Is he still here?" added Willow. If so, Rummy would be at Minty's, the same as every traveller who came to Warner. Rummy the Trail walked from place to place, carrying a few rare trinkets like ribbons and needles, for trading. But he mostly lived off the hospitality of people eager for news of far off places they would never see for themselves.

"He's gone on already," Emmie answered, to Willow's disappointment. "I met him when I was walking home with Old Jesty, after Hest trod on the spike fish. But I heard he left the next morning to beat the snow. He promised Jesty he'd warn the other villages there's been a spike fish about in winter, and tell them to use handleaf root if anyone gets stung. I expect he'll mention you, too, Willow. You'll be a legend! He didn't have much news. He said there was a mudslide up near Windtop two moons ago, and there's swamp fever in the marsh villages."

Emmie paused for breath, then asked, "Are you all right, Willow?"

Willow had promised Rinnet and Yenna that she would not say anything to anyone about the message from the plants. Not until the tree speakers knew what it was about.

"Well, at least we can't get swamp fever in Warner," she said quickly. "It's a disease of marsh and wetlands. And it wasn't me that saved Hest from the spike fish venom, it was the handleaf plant. It called to me. Let's drink this tea, Emmie. I think most of the fumes have gone now."

The tea was delicious. It kept Willow warm inside on the journey to the Grove.

The Grove was a stand of trees in the woodland at the edge of the village. A large circular clearing in the centre was kept weeded of saplings and used for drumming and dancing. It was close enough to the village for groups of children and young people to be allowed to gather there alone, but far enough away for them to practise drumming and singing without disturbing anyone too much.

As sunset progressed to twilight, all the young villagers between the ages of five and seventeen summers made their way to the Grove. Those with larger drums had bundles of blankets or furs strapped to their backs, to form into cushions to sit on. Excited squeaks and cries echoed amongst the thatched cottages, stables, barns, vegetable plots, chicken coops and pigstyes. Plenty of villagers were outdoors, settling animals for the night, or stacking firewood. The adults waved and greeted the youngsters passing by.

The last cottage at the edge of the village, beside the wood, belonged to Druse. It was a large cottage, and very neat, with a wooden front porch raised off the ground to allow for the storage of firewood underneath. Behind the cottage was a small orchard, and there was a large and tidy vegetable garden at the front. Willow sighed, as she saw that Druse was standing in front of her cottage, greeting every child by name. The annoying woman kept calling out warnings to keep cloaks fastened warmly, and not stay out too late and get tired.

Emmie giggled. "Look! She's actually carrying scarves, in case anyone's not warm enough."

They marched resolutely past the cottage, not looking at the bulky figure standing in the gloom.

"Good evening Hest! You rest that foot, won't you?" Druse called. Her voice was shrill and loud. Hest just hurried on past her.

"Good evening, Emmie! Your big brother's here already." Emmie ducked her head politely, but said nothing.

"Good evening, Willow! I'm off to the elders' meeting, shortly. You're much too young to be apprenticed, dear. I'm going to suggest that you wait a few more seasons."

"What?" Willow started to say, but Emmie grabbed her hand and pulled her onward.

"Just ignore her, Willow. She's not an elder, just an old dung-licker. It's not important what she thinks," Emmie said, as they got further away.

Hest agreed. "She's daft, Willow, and she's jealous of Rinnet. Everyone knows. She thinks she's a healer, but her medicines don't work."

Willow had heard the village gossip, but Rinnet had warned her that it was rude to repeat it. Putting together snatches of conversation she had overheard between Rinnet and Yenna, Willow had formed the opinion that Druse badly wanted to be a tree speaker, but the plants would not talk to her.

"She came round as soon as she heard about the spike fish sting," Hest went on, "with some salve she'd made herself." He laughed, remembering. "Nettle didn't say one word. He let her say her speech, and then he shut the door in her face and sat back down by the fire as if nothing had happened. She wants to annoy you, so don't let her."

Willow wished she had a stone listener father to teach her how not to be annoyed. She could feel herself trembling. The last warmth from Hest's powerful tea had left her, and a sharp winter wind was hurting her ears as she entered the Grove.

She marched irritably towards the fire at the centre, where Flax stood, showing everyone where to sit.

FIVE

Flax had already cleaned the fire pit and started a small fire. There were piles of logs and brushwood nearby, ready for feeding to it later on.

Flax was nearly old enough to be called a man. He was pale-coloured, like Emmie. Weak firelight chased across the white skin of his face and the curling ends of his long fair hair.

Willow looked up at him and announced, "I'll tend the fire."

"I don't think so," he replied, looking at her closely. "Not in that state. You're angry enough to fry eggs on."

Emmie explained, "It's Druse. Rinnet and Yenna want Willow to be apprenticed to them, and they're going to ask the elders tonight, and Druse is going to say no. And Druse isn't even an elder."

Flax laughed. "Is that all? Well Druse is just sore because she tried to stop the drumming and Old Jesty wouldn't let her. She says it's dangerous for untrained youngsters to drum in the woods."

"But we are trained!" Emmie exclaimed. "Old Jesty's taught all of us, at one time or another."

"Exactly," said Flax, grinning. "So, now Druse is off to the elders' meeting to get back at him. She's only using you as an excuse, Willow."

This made Willow feel even more upset. She scowled at Flax.

He shrugged his shoulders. "So you're a tree speaker," he said. "You're standing in the Grove. Let the trees calm you down. Join the first drumming. After that, if you're feeling better, then you can tend the fire."

Flax had shamed her. The trees of the Grove were old and special, and she should not have walked into the clearing without even greeting them. Hurrying quietly away from the fire, Willow stepped into the darkness under the trees.

There, she turned her back on the fire and the gathering, holding her hands out to touch the nearest trunk. Damp bark met her fingertips. Willow sent feelings of greeting to this tree, and to all the Grove trees, and all the other trees. She felt the huge, dark powerful mass of them return the touch, and realised how very small she was.

Afterwards, turning back towards the fire, she noticed Hest and Emmie waiting for her at the edge of the clearing.

"Come back now, Willow," Emmie called, plaintively. "It's dark in there."

All three then hurried to settle in their places in the drumming circle around the fire. Flax had made sure that the best drummers were spread out, so that the younger ones could follow them. He began the first drumming himself. The older drummers soon joined him, with a slow, quiet rhythm.

The two sets of twins were there. Allie and Ginger, the girls. And Rune and Jem, the dark and handsome boys. Also, Nipper, the blacksmith's apprentice, and Dew, who was the next best drummer to Flax.

Dew was seated a few places along from Hest. Willow saw her nod to him, then he began to play along. Everyone was supposed to join in with the drumming as soon as they felt ready. Flax would not begin to play more elaborate patterns until the whole circle was keeping time. Willow was one of the last to join in, waiting until it was already noisy, so no one would notice if she missed a beat.

After a while, she stopped worrying about her own lack of skill. The steady rhythm was soothing, and the feel of the dark at her back was comforting.

She watched three small children, Lisset, Rime and Poppy, who sat in a row between Hest and Dew. Willow noticed how they were trying to follow Dew as she beat out a soft, but complicated pattern in partnership with Flax.

The three youngsters were able to imitate the look of relaxed concentration on Dew's face, and to copy her posture exactly, even though they were cross-legged on the ground. Dew sat on a high pile of blankets in order to play her heavy drum with a straight back. The children imitated the angle of her slim hands above the drum skin, and the delicate slapping of her fingers. But they had no hope of repeating the right sounds in the right rhythms. Eventually, the circle collapsed, because all three of them had fallen forward into the grass in fits of giggles.

Dew stood up, waving to Flax. "That's the end of the first drumming," she announced.

Flax then made a show of stalking around the circle, checking the tone of drums and giving out instructions. He kept reminding the smallest children that they must listen and try to keep in time. Without seeming bossy, he also advised them to tuck the hems of their cloaks underneath them on the damp ground, so as not to get cold.

But he spoke more sharply when he came to Dew. "Don't get too fancy," Willow heard him say. "Or the little ones try and copy you and we'll end up in a right mess."

Before the start of the next drumming, Willow and Emmie went to tend the fire, leaving their own drums in Hest's care. Looking after the fire was a serious job, which took concentration. It had to be kept hot, but not too hot, and bright, but not fierce. Not only did they have to select wood and feed the flames, they also had to watch for children wriggling too close.

When the moon rose, huge and clear, between the branches of the trees, the children begged Flax to let them do the moon dance. So then, Flax and the older drummers formed a wider circle, well away from the fire. The young children danced and sang in the moonlight, with their hands upturned, as if to catch moonbeams.

Finally, the children all lifted their hands high above their heads as if to coax the moon on its journey up to the top of the sky. After this, even the most boisterous of the small children were worn out. They took their places back in the big drumming circle with more seriousness than before.

The fire was still hot on Willow's cheeks. A great plume of smoke and vapour rose up above her head. She felt the vibrations of the drums through her feet, and listened to the sounds travel out across the night with the smoke.

Old Jesty taught small children to drum by having them copy the rhythms of raindrops falling from a branch into a metal pan. Suddenly wondering if trees listened to the rain, Willow sent her tree speaker's sense out to those surrounding her in the darkness. It certainly felt as though the trees had some sort of rhythm. They resonated in a way she could not pick up through her ears. But it was impossible to tell if the trees were matching their beat to the drums, or if all the drum beats were really echoes of the trees.

"Do they like it?" Emmie's voice caught Willow by surprise.

"You get a _look_ when you're tree speaking," Emmie went on. "I can tell when you're doing it."

"Oh," Willow replied. "Well I think they like it. They're listening anyway."

"Drum to keep the world in balance," Emmie said gravely, imitating Old Jesty's creaky voice, and nodding her head slowly, like an elder.

Willow giggled. But just then, the drumming stopped and Flax came towards the fire.

"Is there enough firewood for one more?" he asked.

Willow glanced at the piles of dead wood. She was surprised to see how little was left.

"Just about," she answered.

Flax was already looking back towards the drumming circle. "Hest's not bad," he commented.

"He practises," said Emmie. "I mean to, but I forget. I'm sorry."

Willow noticed Flax give a kind of bitter half-smile at that. "Don't worry, you're not the only one," he answered. Then his voice suddenly brightened. "Well, how about this? I'm planning a skin dance in the summer. Want to come?"

"Ye...e...s!" Emmie cried, with no hesitation at all.

Willow was not so sure. "I'll think about it," she promised Flax.

"Druse won't approve," he said, turning to wink at her before stepping away from the firelight.

During the final drumming, Willow tried to watch Hest. As the trees overhead moved in the breeze, moonlight came and went over the place where he sat. She thought he seemed to forget where he was, as he got deeply into the rhythm. Hest sat on a fur seat he had made by tightly rolling a pelt and binding it. He steadied his drum between his knees and rolled his hands and his fingers over its skin. It was as though he had forgotten every part of his body except for his wrists and hands.

The drumming reached its height and slowly died. Then Willow saw him shake himself, as if suddenly remembering where he was. He wriggled and reached underneath the fur. Willow laughed, guessing that he must have positioned it on a sharp stone, but only just realised that it hurt him.

The moon was still high, but the firewood was all used up. The last embers of the fire now glowed red in the centre of a carpet of moonlight.

Flax began to lead the drummers home. Children of all sizes hopped and jumped and bounced, still banging their drums, following one after the other in a long line.

Hest joined Emmie and Willow to spread out the embers and smother the fire. Suddenly pausing, he took a small stone from his trouser pocket and handed it to Emmie. She held it up, turning it slowly in the moonlight.

"A firestone?" she asked.

"Yes," Hest answered. "I was sitting on it. Maybe the drumming made it restless. It kept digging into me. I didn't know it was a firestone until I picked it up."

Just then, Dew came over to check the fire pit was safe. She nodded approvingly at their work. Finally, they all joined the end of the procession back to the village. Hest had returned Willow's drum to her. She rocked it against her hand, tapping softly.

Willow deliberately timed her beat slightly behind Emmie's. Between them, they made one long, soft beat for each harsh loud one of Hest's. He had slung his fur seat onto his back, and carried his drum in the crook of one arm.

They all paraded through the village, still drumming. Every time they came to someone's home, those who could manage it gave a drum roll. That was supposed to let the adults inside know that their children were safely home.

Willow and Emmie went home to Nettle's barn. Emmie's parents, and Rinnet and Yenna, at Minty's, would still hear all the noise and understand that all was well.

Hest made toast and redberry tea. Then the three of them settled into the fur nests that would be their beds for the night.

"I enjoyed that," said Emmie. "What a shame we can't do it again before the spring."

"Only just made it," answered Hest. "Snow tomorrow, Nettle says."

"Bad luck, Willow," Emmie responded. "I don't expect we'll see you again until spring." Before Willow could reply, Emmie went on, "Oh, but cheer up, we can look forward to the skin dance. It'll be our first one."

"About time, too," agreed Hest. "Guern led the last skin dance in Warner. I was too young to go. If we don't have one soon, I'll be a man, and then I'll be too old."

Willow frowned, but she did not think they could see her face. "People can get hurt," she said. "I expect that's why we haven't had one for so long."

Emmie refused to be put off. "Well that's all right then," she said, happily, "because you'll be an apprentice by then, and you can keep us safe."

SIX

The elders had agreed to Willow's apprenticeship. The three tree speakers returned to the Healers' Cottages in the beginnings of the first winter snowstorm.

When Willow mentioned Druse, Rinnet said, "Humph! You might be grateful to her, Willow. Once the elders knew Druse didn't want you apprenticed, they were determined that you should be."

"I do worry about that woman," added Yenna. "She's turning bitter."

If the elders had talked to one another about Rummy the Trail's news of swamp fever in the marshes, neither Rinnet, nor Yenna told Willow. So, hoping it was not important, she said nothing, either.

Willow was tired after the drumming. Yet she did not complain when Rinnet sent her to fill the hen coop with extra hay, and cover the roof with hay-stuffed sacks, tied on with ropevine stems. Willow knew that the hens would have to come in and live in the cottage if it got too cold for them outdoors, just as the goats would have to move in with Yenna.

She thought that living with goats would be a lot worse than living with hens. So, when the hens were settled, she went to help Yenna pack brushwood against the inside walls of the goat shed. As well as providing insulation, it would give Goldnose and Dream something to nibble on when they could not get outdoors.

By sunset, the snow had settled and was laying thickly. A biting wind sent freezing drafts through every crack around the doors and window of Rinnet's cottage. The fire either blazed madly, or smoked and sulked, depending on the direction of the gusts of wind battering the chimney. That storm blew itself out in the night, but it was followed by many more. Confined indoors for much of the time, Willow tried to be a good apprentice and learn as much as she could.

Rinnet spoke of how to recognise different illnesses and how to treat them. She listed which plants to harvest when, and how to make them into medicines. She also talked a lot about how to recognise sick plants, and how to advise their farmers and gardeners about getting them well.

Using a quill dipped in ink made from tranet bark galls and vinegar, Willow made notes in the little book Rinnet had once bought her from a pack trader. Some days, she also went to Yenna's cottage to listen to more of the same kind of instruction. Then Yenna would ask her a lot of questions, testing how much she could remember.

In clear weather, when the light was good at the table under the window, Willow would read to herself from Rinnet's notebook of recipes and cures. When not in use, the book was always kept on the bottom shelf of the herb cupboard.

At other times, Rinnet covered the table with the herbs they had collected before the snow. These had now been dried above the hearth. Together, Willow and Rinnet would _listen_. Afterwards, they would decide to make a salve, or a syrup, or some other medicine that the plants seemed content with.

On her trip to the stream every morning, Willow often had to shovel a path for herself through fresh snow. Instead of holding onto a branch of her name-tree as she dipped her bucket, she had to kneel among roots to avoid slipping down the bank. Every splash of water that soaked into the wool of her skirt stayed cold all day long.

When the snow had lain for more than a moon, there were two nights so cold that Yenna declared she would definitely have to bring the goats indoors if it got any worse. But then there was a brief and sudden thaw. The sky remained grey with clouds from sunrise to sunset, and everything, everywhere, dripped. It was impossible to get the fire to burn properly, because the chimney would not draw. So the cottages felt and smelled damp, as well as cold. Yet it was not long before more snow arrived, and the air tasted of frost once more.

At the dark of the moon was Winter's Heart, when every cottager placed lighted candles in windows and doorways, to carry the household through the longest nights. Yenna made a batch of honey biscuits, which were shared out carefully and made to last several days.

Willow stood outside Rinnet's doorway in the night, trying to see the Winter's Heart lights down in the village. They were much too far away, but she liked to look out for them anyway.

She knew that Emmie's cottage would be filled with people, and glowing with firelight, candlelight and lamplight. There would be smells of honey biscuits, redberry tea and cider. At Nettle's cottage, Hest would place a single candle in the window and quietly share a taste of best cider with his father.

Villagers would visit one another, to sing songs and tell stories. There would be gatherings at Minty's every night and Minty would have his winter warming ales ready. Willow had heard about all of these things from Emmie, but her own Winter's Hearts had always passed quietly at the Healers' Cottages.

The snow on the ground hardened. Curling patches of ice grew out of the banks of the stream to hang over the moving water. Willow became bored and listless. She was tired of listening to Rinnet and Yenna talk about tree speaking, when all the plants outdoors were sleeping under snow. No longer interested in reading or writing, she spent a lot of time just staring at the fireplace, watching the flames.

Yenna came to Rinnet's cottage. She had brought some sewing along with her, to work on while there was still daylight. Willow expected her grandmother to accuse her of laziness, but she did not.

"You've gone to earth with the plants, girl," Yenna said. "Don't worry, you'll soon come up again."

A few days later, on a dreary morning when the sky was grey and dull, Yenna returned. This time, she resumed her questions to test Willow's memory. Willow found herself absorbed in trying to recite all she had learned about the uses of plants for hot rashes, weeping rashes and dry rashes. If she forgot anything, either Rinnet or Yenna would interrupt.

Suddenly, all three of them were startled by a loud knock on Rinnet's door.

Willow jumped up from her chair. She pulled the door open, eager to see who had come visiting. It was Nipper, the blacksmith's apprentice. He came inside quickly, stamping the snow from his boots.

Nipper was thin, and small for his age, but he could run faster than anyone in the village. He was stronger than he looked, especially since he had begun working for Flower, the blacksmith. Standing near the fire to get warm, the boy explained why he had been sent.

"No one's ill," he said, quickly. "But please could Rinnet go urgently to Minty's? Rummy the Trail's come, and the elders have all been gathered by Minty's fire, listening to his news. Flower went over this morning to ask Rummy about a message for an iron trader. She came back to the forge in a hurry and told me to come and get you right away."

Willow was frightened. She could not imagine why the elders would summon Rinnet so urgently if no one was ill.

"I'd best go, then," said Rinnet, sounding perfectly calm. "Sit down and rest, Nipper. Have some tea. Willow, put the kettle on."

As Willow moved to hang the kettle above the fire, she offered Nipper her chair to sit in.

"We should all go," said Yenna. "I should be with the elders, and Willow can't be left on her own up here in winter. I'd like to see Anna at the mill, as well."

Fortified with redberry tea, Nipper soon raced ahead of them to the village.

Willow began trudging slowly down the hill, walking behind her mother and grandmother. Yenna used her stick to test the depth of the snow. In places it was knee-high.

By the time they reached the village, Willow's legs ached painfully. Village paths were swept clear of snow, but that just seemed to leave them slippery with frozen mud. At last, they came to Minty's house, where travellers were always welcome.

Minty's front room was enormous. Around the hearth were big chairs with arms and cushions. There were benches and tables along the walls. The hearth was so large there was a log the size of a young pig burning in it.

The elders were clustered around the hearth, in the comfortable chairs. Yenna sat down in between Minnie, a small and shrivelled elder who was almost blind, and Old Weary, who was tall and shrivelled and moaned a lot. Old Weary was Old Jesty's living-partner. They had shared a cottage since before Willow was born. The two of them were as different as winter and summer.

Rinnet took the last remaining chair, beside Old Jesty. Willow crept across to sit on a bench, where she hoped to listen without being noticed.

Minty bustled about serving hot tea and warm biscuits, promising to bring out ale and cider later on. He was a large man with wide shoulders and red cheeks. When all the adults had been served, he bowed to Willow, asking, "What can I get for our youngest tree speaker? How about a couple of the honey biscuits I've been hiding in my larder?"

Willow smiled and nodded, shyly. It was overwhelming to be among so many people all of a sudden. Minty went away, then returned with a plate of honey biscuits and two mugs of redberry tea. He settled himself beside Willow on the bench, where they quietly shared the biscuits, listening to the conversation at the hearthside.

"I've been through the marsh villages again," Rummy the Trail was saying. "I went to the city after I was last in Warner. Then I moved around the low villages for a bit, keeping away from the snow. I wasn't planning to come back up this way before spring, but the folk in the marsh villages begged me to. I'd told 'em your spike fish story, see, about the young girl who became a tree speaker when she saved her best friend from certain death. How the handleaf told her to use its roots."

Minty patted Willow's hand as Rummy said that.

"And, well..." continued Rummy the Trail, "...it turned out they were very grateful for that information, see. Because they've had quite a few spike fish sightings. It seems the fish usually sleep under stones in the river by the marshes in winter. But something's been stirring the water up and filling it with mud, disturbing them. No one in the marsh villages has been stung yet, but they've got other things to worry about. The past two summers, they've had the swamp fever. I was there at harvest time, and things were pretty bad, then. A lot of the children and old folk had died. Now it's even worse. A lot of folk still can't seem to shake the fever off, and now they're getting damp coughs and lung fever to add to it."

_So that's it_ , Willow thought, with relief, _Not fever here, but help needed there. We can give Rummy all those medicines we made, and he can take them to the marsh villages._ She watched the elders nod their heads. Except for Yenna, they had all already heard Rummy tell this story at least once.

He went on, "The thing is, they've no tree speakers left in the two marsh villages at all. There was an old lady in Upmarsh. She died in the first summer of the fever. The tree speaker in Downmarsh was a strong young man. He cared for the sick in both villages for as long as he could. He kept going and going until he wore himself out. He had the fever last summer and survived it, but the damp cough did for him, and a lot of others as well. There were three women pregnant at harvest and all of them had lost their babies by the time I went back there.

"So, when I told the story of young Willow, what they noticed was that you've got three tree speakers in one village. They've got none."

He paused. Willow stared hard at the grain of the wood in the tabletop in front of her.

"So they asked you to ask one of us to go to the marsh villages," Rinnet answered Rummy the Trail, speaking slowly.

"Willow's too young and I'm too old," Yenna joined in. "You're asking Rinnet to go."

"Should I go?" Willow heard Rinnet ask the gathering of elders.

Rubbing her cold, numb toes around in her wet socks inside her boots, Willow suddenly changed her mind about not wanting to be noticed. No one thought to ask for her opinion.

Old Jesty spoke for the elders. "You must decide," he said to Rinnet, "but we say you can go if you wish."

"They'll send a rider with a horse for you," added Rummy the Trail. "As soon as they can spare someone. They said to bring as many medicines as two horses can carry."

"When do you go back there, Rummy?" asked Yenna.

"Soon as I've got Rinnet's answer. They're in a bad way down there."

Minty's front door creaked, just then. Willow looked up to see Emmie creep in. Minty got to his feet and Emmie slid into his place beside Willow.

"Time to find that ale," said Minty, softly, then headed off to his larder.

One look at Emmie's worried face told Willow that her friend already knew what was happening. The two of them listened to the elders.

Old Weary was complaining. "What happens if _our_ village gets a sickness?" he asked. "What happens if our crops get sick? We need _all_ our tree speakers."

"Don't be selfish, old moaner," Old Jesty replied. "The people in the marshes need help. But you must take time to think on it, Rinnet."

"No," said Rinnet, loudly and clearly. "I've already decided. Your message wasn't the first we've had, Rummy. The plants have been asking us to help, only we didn't know what help was needed. I will go to the marsh villages. For two seasons, at least. I'll do what I can to help."

Willow felt the words like a blow to her stomach. Suddenly the room was unbearably hot and she wanted to be outdoors.

"Come on," she whispered to Emmie. Getting quickly to her feet, she fled the room, slipping out through Minty's front door.

She could feel herself filling up with anger. Rinnet should have asked her before deciding to go off and leave her alone.

SEVEN

After Willow had marched furiously on icy mud for some time, Emmie complained, "Willow, if you want to be cold and miserable, could we at least go in Nettle's barn and get out of the wind?"

Only then, did Willow begin to feel the biting wind. The cold soon made her cheeks sting and her head ache. Slipping and struggling, she led the way to the barn.

Hest was curled in his furs by the stove, carving a piece of wood.

"Is Rinnet going then?" he asked, straight away.

Willow could not prevent herself from scowling at him. Then her anger exploded. "She should have asked me!" she cried. "She should have talked with me and Yenna before deciding! Oh, I knew they weren't telling me things. I bet they discussed it already behind my back."

"How could they Willow?" asked Emmie. "They didn't know."

"You heard them!" Willow shouted. "They've been getting messages from the plants, asking for help. Messages I noticed before they did, actually."

"Take a seat, Willow. Have a pile of furs," said Hest. "Get angry in comfort. I'll find you some cider and you can get drunk if you like. The thing is, though, if Rinnet goes away, you're going to be more than an apprentice. You'll be our second tree speaker, and nobody'll be allowed to talk behind your back, then."

"Oh, that's right, Willow." Emmie sounded excited at the idea. "Of course. Yenna won't be able to manage everything on her own. You'll get to do the easy jobs. People will start giving you food and things in payment. Oh!" Emmie flung both her hands up to her mouth, suddenly. "That's just not fair! You'll have a whole cottage to yourself."

Hest passed Willow a cup of hot cider. She took small sips until her cheeks began to feel warm.

Emmie seemed to have instantly forgiven her. "Well, I think it's exciting, Willow," she went on. "I'm going to come and visit you in your peaceful empty cottage as often as possible. Now, did Rummy the Trail tell you his other important news?"

When Willow looked back at her blankly, Emmie said, "There's a boy staying at Goshi's! Can you believe it? Rummy always stops at Goshi's when he comes up from the low villages, out of kindness I expect, to check the old dung-licker's all right. Anyway, this time, there was someone else there. A boy Rummy thought must be fifteen or sixteen summers. Living with Goshi – what an idiot! And he wouldn't tell Rummy where he came from!"

Willow was mildly interested, in spite of her simmering anger at Rinnet and Yenna. "Did Rummy say whether he was good looking?" she asked.

"No, but he did say that he didn't look as if he was used to rough work, even though he must have walked alone across the hills in winter, before he got to Goshi's."

They were interrupted by a knocking at the barn door. Before anyone could get up, Yenna let herself in. Glaring at her grandmother, Willow sullenly handed her empty cider mug back to Hest.

Yenna nodded to Hest and Emmie, then turned to Willow. "We must go home soon," she said, quietly. "But I want you to visit the mill with me, first."

Hest called softly, "Here, Willow!"

As she turned her head, he threw something towards her. She caught it automatically, and held it out to examine it. It was a carved wooden mouse.

Emmie laughed. "Oh Hest!" she called out. "Is that supposed to be a mouse? It looks more like a scruffy little rat."

"Well maybe carving's not my thing," he answered, "but it took me all morning."

Willow clutched the little carving hard, until it almost hurt her hand. Then she forced herself to smile at her friends before following Yenna back outside.

It was quiet at the mill-house. Frost was not milling, but cleaning and oiling machinery. He came into the kitchen briefly and tried to hug Willow. She pulled away before he could cover her in stinking, black ribseed oil.

Anna soon chased Frost out of the kitchen. Then she begged Yenna for a medicine to help her through the last moons of her pregnancy.

"You promised me I'd stop feeling sick, but I still do. I'm tired all the time. I can't sleep. And I can't stand the smell of that oil!" she wailed.

Yenna took off her cloak and felt in the pockets of her jacket. She produced a little sack of dried binsey leaves.

Willow set a kettle of water on the stove, without being asked. While Yenna spoke soothingly, then lifted Anna's skirts to lay wrinkled hands on her stomach, Willow made weak binsey tea.

She politely asked the binsey leaves to calm Anna's troubled digestion. As she did so, she remembered that she was angry. It annoyed her that she had so unthinkingly put her anger aside when there was tree speaking work to be done.

Before leaving, they went to speak to Frost in the mill. He seemed to be the only person in the village not to have heard about Rummy the Trail and his message, so Yenna had to explain.

"So, my daughter's a real tree speaker, now," he said, beaming at Willow. "I guess I can do without her help in the mill, after all."

All Willow could do was frown, bitterly. She thought her father might at least pretend to care that her mother would be going away.

Rinnet joined Willow and Yenna beyond the mill, and the three of them walked home together. Yenna and Rinnet talked quietly as they struggled up the hill. Willow followed miserably along behind them, still clutching Hest's wooden mouse. In spite of the hard exercise, she managed to remain furious.

When she and Rinnet were finally alone indoors, Rinnet hugged her. All she said was, "I'm sorry, Willow. You've had a shock. We all have."

Unwrapping her hand from the wooden mouse, Willow put it on a shelf of the herb cupboard, above the drawer where the redberries were stored. So she would see it every time she made the tea.

"You could have asked me before deciding to go away and leave me here alone," she said.

It was a long time before Rinnet answered. She fed sticks to the fire and added water to the kettle.

"There wasn't any choice, really." Rinnet spoke, at last. "I don't want to leave you, Willow, but I know that you'll do well. I trust you. You're a tree speaker. But there's a price. We serve the plants and we serve our people. When they ask for help, we do what we can."

The last days of winter snow at the Healers' Cottages were very busy. Every clay pot was filled with salve for hot rashes, or chest rub for coughs. Each leather or sackcloth bag was stuffed with dried herbs. Every bottle eventually contained honey cough syrup or medicinal wine.

Willow worked hard alongside her mother and grandmother. They worked because healers give help when asked, and the marsh villagers needed the medicines.

While they worked, Rinnet tried to teach Willow everything she would need to know to keep her own cottage. Of course, she had wanted Willow to move in with Yenna. But Willow had insisted she was old enough to take care of a cottage of her own. Rinnet had finally agreed, admitting that it would not hurt for Willow to learn independence. And Yenna's cottage was only a few strides away, in any case.

The ground began to thaw and the air became less biting. The stream rose high and fast with meltwater, but there was no spring rain. Yellowmops and purple millyflowers appeared, opening their petals to the sunlight.

The tree speakers were called upon from time to time, to treat villagers with spring coughs and joint pains. Poppy had a chilblain that would not heal, so Rinnet showed Willow how to make a powerful salve with a pinch of Minty's warming spices.

One morning, Rinnet sent Willow across to Yenna's cottage to ask for a basket to pack some of the medicine jars into. As Willow stepped through Yenna's vegetable garden, she heard the sound of someone chopping wood. Assuming that it was Yenna, she went around the back of the cottage, towards the wood pile.

Rounding the corner of the cottage, she came face to face with a boy wielding an axe. Willow stopped, abruptly. The boy immediately dropped the axe to the ground. Leaning on the handle, he stared at her arrogantly, without smiling. His skin was darker than Willow's own, but lighter than Hest's. His hair was dark brown, and roughly trimmed. He was as tall as Flax, but thinner, and he had the soft beginnings of a man's hair on his chin and upper lip.

He said, gruffly, "You must be Willow. Yenna's inside."

Willow was not going to be dismissed. She said, haughtily, "And you are?"

"Rock," he answered. Turning back to the chopping block, he raised the axe.

"What kind of a name is Rock?" Willow exclaimed, before he could ignore her.

Just then, the cottage door was opened with a bang. Yenna came around to the wood pile. "Willow!" she called out. "Be polite to our visitor! You come inside, now. Rock can join us when he's earned his breakfast."

Willow followed her grandmother indoors.

Shutting the door behind them, Yenna said, quietly, "He arrived early this morning. He walked through the night, from Goshi's. He says Goshi tried to beat him, which was very silly of the old man. It's a good job that boy can control his temper, or Goshi might have got himself in real trouble. Anyway, Rock won't live in the village. He says it's too crowded. He asked me if he can stay here for a while and work in return for a bed and food. I think it might be useful. He could repair the roof of the goat shed and I could teach him to do the milking. My joints do ache in the mornings these days."

Willow knew that Yenna's joints pained her more and more, lately. She could see that it would be a help to have Rock around. But he was not exactly friendly, and _she_ was the apprentice.

She made a face, but Yenna just laughed at her.

"He's proud and prickly," Yenna added, "but he might turn a bit warmer once we've got to know him. He's come to the Healers' Cottages. Maybe he needs healing but he doesn't know it yet. Now put the redberry to brew for me, Willow. You may have had your breakfast already, but that boy and I are famished."

Later, Willow returned home with the basket, to tell Rinnet the incredible news about the strange boy turning up at Yenna's. Rinnet responded surprisingly calmly.

"Well don't go being jealous, Willow," she said. "While I'm in the marsh villages, you'll be glad of all the help you can get, believe me."

Willow tried not to look as if she felt jealous.

Only a few days after Rock's arrival, a message came from Warner. The rider from the marsh villages was at Minty's. After frantic final preparations, Rinnet declared that she was ready to go. Then the man led two horses up to the Healers' Cottages. All the packs and baskets of medicines were loaded up.

Rinnet took Willow's chin between her two hands and looked at her face for a long time. "Take care," she said, "and grow well. When I come back, we'll tell each other everything we've learned."

Rinnet and the man from the marsh villages would ride down the hill, straight through the village, up Screed hill, right past Goshi's, and across the hills beyond. Willow and Yenna waved for as long as they could still see Rinnet's back. Rock waited patiently and silently.

When Rinnet had disappeared from sight, Yenna said, loudly, "Right, you two. To work! Spring's here. There'll be enough sunshine this afternoon to get some washing dry, if you wring it well and finish it off in front of the hearth. Get the bedsheets. Get the dirty clothes. Get into the stream with a bar of soap."

EIGHT

Before midday, Willow had stripped the sheets from her own and Rinnet's beds. She had covered Rinnet's mattress with a cheerful red blanket to keep the dust off. Now, she stood knee deep in the freezing water of the stream. Holding tightly to both sheets by one edge, she allowed the current to pull them out, so that the rushing water would rinse them clean.

Rock stood beside her, rinsing Yenna's sheet. The stream flowed fast and loudly, making musical glugging noises as it passed around stones and caught pockets of air. From the trees and bushes along its banks, birds sang and chattered constantly.

Rock appeared to know nothing about housekeeping, and Willow had become his teacher. She had shown him how to wet the cloth first, before rubbing soap in and kneading the cloth to distribute it. They had worked on towels and dishcloths before tackling the sheets, which were heavy and hard to manage once they were wet.

The lowest branches of Willow's name-tree were now hung about with dripping cloths of various sizes. Rock must have noticed the way she patted the branches respectfully before using them as living furniture. Willow saw how he watched her suspiciously. Wondering if he was jealous of her talent, she decided not to tell him why this tree was special.

Rock worked hard, but said little. He learned fast, but he refused to tell Willow anything about his background. She had asked him where he came from, who his family were, whether he had ever been to the Spice City or the marsh villages, and who his best friends were. Each time, he either changed the subject or remained stubbornly silent.

When her legs were so cold she feared she would slip into the water and get tangled up in the wet sheets, Willow announced, "That should do it!" She began dragging the whole sopping burden to the stream bank.

Rock copied her obediently. To her annoyance, he hauled his sheet up the bank and flung it over the round dome of a hezzleberry bush before she was even out of the water.

They're going to get dirty again," he commented as he watched her stagger through the slippery mud at the stream's edge.

A corner of Willow's bundle of sheets slipped out of her hands. Rock lunged forward to catch it before it could drag in the mud. Then Willow's feet skidded beneath her and she nearly slid down the bank.

"Just hold them a minute, will you, while I get onto the grass," she told him. "It takes two people to lay a sheet over a bush to dry properly."

Willow unhooked the hem of her skirt from her belt and let it fall back down around her ankles. She bunched folds of her skirt around her calves and rubbed them dry. Only then, did she instruct him to hold two corners of the sheets while she pulled out the other two. They laid both sheets over one hezzleberry bush, then lifted off the top one to drape it over another bush.

"The hezzleberries like it," she informed Rock. "The water drips to the ground in just the right place for the tips of their roots to reach it easily."

Rock rolled down his trouser legs, then began rubbing his hands vigorously over his arms to get them warm.

"How do you know you're not just imagining they like it, because it suits you to use them to dry your sheets on?" he asked.

Willow's feet stung from the cold water and her hands stung from the harsh soap. She sat on a root of her name-tree to put her socks and boots on.

"I can't explain it to someone who doesn't hear plants. I just know!" she snapped, irritably.

"So I just have to take your word for it?"

"Well of course you do!" answered Willow. "I'm a tree speaker and you're not."

He did not argue, and she started to forgive him. They were both very cold and wet. "There's only clothes to wash now," she said. "We can do them from the bank. Put your boots on before you get frostbite."

"I didn't get frostbite walking the hills in the snow," he answered, boastfully. "I'm hardly going to get it now."

However, he did begin to put his socks on.

Willow thought she would make one more attempt to find out something about him. "So how did you manage that?" she asked. "Where did you sleep?"

He was looking down at his feet. His dark hair had fallen forward to hide his face. "Hollow trees, caves," he murmured. "Sometimes I didn't sleep."

Before Willow could ask any more, he added, "I don't want to talk about it."

She decided to try to be friendly, one last time. Yenna had very sternly insisted, several times, that she must try. "Well, if you're going to stay here long, we'll have to make you a mattress. You can't keep sleeping on a pile of Yenna's old blankets with no sheet."

She could not bring herself to offer to lend him Rinnet's mattress.

Rock stared into the trees. After some time, he said, "It doesn't matter. I prefer to sleep on stone. Yenna lets me sleep in the larder."

Willow was so surprised she laughed loudly. "Why would anyone sleep in the larder? You must be crazier than a witherbird!"

She regretted her words the moment she saw Rock's expression, but it was too late.

"I like to sleep on stone," he replied. "I don't care where it is." Shame was clearly marked in his eyes.

Willow began to scrub linen blouses and underskirts. She gave Rock no instruction, but he silently followed her example, and they worked their way through the pile of washing yet to do. There was a lot of it. Only undergarments, dishcloths and moon-blood cloths were washed and dried indoors throughout the winter.

After the strenuous job of washing, came the more leisurely task of moving things around on the bushes and willow branches. Wringing out any corners still dripping, the youngsters constantly rearranged everything, so it caught as much warmth as possible from the sun. Rock continued to work in silence. Willow made only the odd comment about how to remove as much water from the fabrics as they could before bringing them indoors.

Every now and then, they stretched out full length on the grass to soak up warm sunshine, themselves. They ate the bread and goat's cheese that Yenna had given them, listening to the sounds of birds, the wind in the trees and the moving stream. Willow thought her own thoughts, ignoring Rock, who seemed not to want to talk anymore.

That evening, large fires roared in the hearths of both Healers' cottages, which were filled with steaming cloth.

Willow joined Rock and Yenna to stand by the goat pen. The three of them watched a small procession coming along the path from the village. At the front was Old Jesty, banging a drum. Next came Flax, with Emmie and Hest following behind.

"They're going to drum for Rinnet," explained Yenna.

As the group reached the Healers' Cottages, Old Jesty called out, "In front of your doorstep'll do Yenna! A blanket or two to keep the damp from reaching my old rump would be welcome."

Yenna led the way to her cottage. "I doubt I've got anything that's not damp already," she answered Jesty. "We've been having a washday here. Fetch our drums, please, Willow."

Old Jesty produced a small drum from amongst the paraphernalia attached to his belt. He offered it to Rock, saying, "You can join in too, young'un."

For a moment, Willow thought Rock would refuse. He looked at Jesty warily. Putting out a hand to take the drum nervously, he looked as though he thought it might bite him.

Then Willow hurried away to collect her own drum, and the dry blanket from Rinnet's bed. By the time she returned, the others were seated in a rough circle between the vegetable garden and the cottage. Flax and Jesty sat opposite one another. Willow passed the blanket to Jesty, who used it as a cushion. Yenna and Rock sat opposite Hest and Emmie.

Willow quickly squeezed into the space between her two best friends. Emmie nodded gleefully towards Rock. "He _is_ good looking," she whispered.

_I don't care about that_ , Willow thought, to herself. _He's bad tempered and rude, and I don't like him, even if he does have a pain he won't share._

The first drum rhythm was solemn and slow. The sun was very low in the sky. Orange shafts of light fell between the trees and across the grass. Old Jesty was striped with light and shadow. Flax's head seemed to glow. Rock and Yenna sat in the shade, with a pool of pale gold spreading on the grass in front of their knees like a blanket.

Flax was the second drummer to join in. Then Rock took up the beat. He sat straight-backed, with his shoulders and elbows relaxed, working his palms and fingers steadily over the drum skin. Willow turned to glance at Hest, who winked at her. Tucking a lock of his black hair behind one ear, Hest began drumming, too.

Once Yenna had also joined in, Willow turned to look questioningly at Emmie.

Emmie giggled, then whispered, "Now." The two girls began drumming at the same moment.

Jesty kept up the same slow, steady rhythm for a long time. Willow thought of Rinnet, and tried to send her feelings out into the evening sky along with the sound of her drum. Eventually, Old Jesty began to speed up the beat. Flax began to play a more elaborate pattern, and Yenna, Hest and Rock played a third pattern. Willow and Emmie followed Jesty.

Willow became aware that the ground was hard and cold, and it was almost dark. She studied Rock, across the circle. His body hardly moved at all as his hands danced across the drum skin. Willow noticed that the drum Jesty had lent him was decorated with pictures of wild animals. They were marked all around the rim in a red-brown stain, but it was too dark for her to make them out clearly.

Then Old Jesty drummed even faster. Willow had to concentrate very hard to keep up. She forgot about the hard ground and began to feel warm again. Just as the beat became so frantic she thought she would lose it for certain, Jesty slowed down, gradually bringing the drumming to its end.

Everyone rose stiffly to their feet. Jesty and Yenna had to be helped up by Rock and Emmie. Yenna invited everyone into her cottage for redberry tea. But, just as they were about to go indoors, there was an eerie rustling from the trees beyond the vegetable garden.

A dark shape moved forward through the shadows. Beside Willow, Emmie took a step backwards. Then a stag walked out of the wood and stood regarding them all.

No one moved or spoke. Willow gazed in admiration at the animal. In the twilight, the stag's flanks made an elegant outline, backed by the gently swaying shapes of the leaves and branches behind him. His antlers looked like black spears, proudly pointing at the sky. She could see his nose twitch as he smelled the air and watched the people warily.

Rock was nearest to the stag, and took a step forwards. Willow thought the stag would be frightened away. Instead, he lowered his head and extended his neck, as if in greeting. Rock nodded briefly. The stag turned and jumped in one movement, quickly disappearing into the woods.

Emmie sighed, loudly. "He was beautiful," she said. "Can we have tea now?"

Inside Yenna's cottage, it was not particularly comfortable, squeezed in amongst the drying washing. Hest and Emmie helped Willow to brew the tea, and everyone had a cup to warm them. But then Old Jesty said he must lead his party back to the village.

Rock tried to give back the drum he had borrowed.

"Keep it," Jesty said, pushing the drum back into the boy's hands. "It seems to be the right one for you."

"You're a fair drummer," Flax added. "Have you ever been to a skin dance? We're having one in the Grove by the village, one summer full moon. Come down if you're interested. You too, Willow, don't forget."

Willow was not pleased to be remembered as an afterthought, when she had lived by Warner all her life and Rock was a newcomer. She decided that perhaps she would go to the skin dance, after all.

Yenna asked Rock to follow the villagers to the edge of the path with a lantern. From then on, they would have to rely on starlight to guide them. Then she warmly thanked Old Jesty.

"Our Rinnet's got a long road," she said. "A drumming's always a good way to collect up wishes and send them outwards."

"You take care now, old girl," Jesty replied. "You've got young Willow and young Rock to run the Healers' cottages. Put your feet up and take it easy. You've got two talents to train now, you know."

Willow saw Yenna tap the side of her nose to Jesty as she finished, "Hurry on now, old man, or they'll leave you behind."

After Old Jesty had joined the others, Willow asked Yenna, "What did he mean about _two_ talents to train?"

The old woman chuckled. "Rock's an animal talker," she said. "Haven't you noticed?"

NINE

Vegetables needed planting, herbs wanted picking, and there were always medicines to be made. Willow enjoyed being busy, because it distracted her from missing Rinnet. She truly enjoyed having the whole cottage all to herself, and managing the garden and the herb cupboard. But the nights were lonely. She was too proud to ask to sleep at Yenna's, now that Rock was there.

Mist and heavy dew watered the seedlings in the gardens, but there was still no rain. Yenna said she had never seen the stream so low in springtime.

Rock learned to milk the goats, and mended the roof of their shed. He levelled Yenna's doorstep, and replaced the rotten wood around her window frame. Willow became used to the sound of him chopping wood outdoors while she sat comfortably by Yenna's fireside, sewing and learning.

She wondered whether he and Yenna discussed his talent, after dark. He would never answer Willow's questions about animal talking. He did not usually seem much interested in any kind of talking.

Willow accompanied her grandmother on tree speaking visits, watching and listening, and helping when she could. They looked at Nipper's arm after he had burned it badly at the forge. Flower had already cleaned and bandaged it, over a covering of greenroot jelly. Yenna said that what a blacksmith did not know about treating burns was not worth knowing, so Nipper would be fine. Another time, they _listened_ to the sprouting grain in Jule the cowman's store. Then they told him what he ought to have known anyway. The grain could not help but sprout, since the boards were rotten and the floor was getting damp from a leaking water barrel.

One day, Yenna announced that she must visit Goshi. She decided to take Rock, as well as Willow, along with her.

"I've lost patience with the old man," she said. "He grows more foul-tongued with every moon that passes. At least you two can clean and tidy the place while I check that his toes aren't festering."

Willow was miserable and irritable at the thought of meeting the old man again.

Rock tripped on the slope of Screed Hill, scuffing up a tiny clump of creeping skittle with his boot.

"Mind out, you dumb cart-horse," she grumbled at him. "That plant's got as much right to be here as you have."

"If you noticed anything that wasn't green, you'd know that cart horses aren't dumb, leaf-face!" he replied.

They bickered all the way up Screed Hill.

Finally, Yenna turned on them. "Enough!" she shouted. "You're like Goshi doubled, and that's an insult worse than any of the ones you've thought of so far!"

When they arrived, Goshi smelled worse than ever. Plates of half-eaten food and empty ale mugs surrounded his fireside chair. He had bits of food in his hair and his beard. His clothes looked as though he had been wearing them for moons.

"Eh, boy," he said, scowling at Rock. "So that's where you've been."

Yenna looked around at the mess. "My goats have more self-respect than you, you old fool," she said. "Now, I won't keep coming up here to put right what you've brought on yourself by laziness and neglect."

"Well, don't come up here then, old crone!" Goshi yelled, fighting back. "No one tells me what to do. If that's what you want, you can get out right now!"

Willow had never heard anyone talk to Yenna like that. She thought it was time to show Goshi there were two tree speakers present.

"You could die of a coughing fever brought on by the damp in here, or poisoning from the rotten food in your larder," she said. "Or you could slip on a pool of spilt beer on your way to the privy and break your back, and lie there for days in pain before anybody finds you. Is that what _you_ want?"

Goshi walked towards Willow. He peered at her closely, then began to roar with laughter.

When he had calmed down enough to speak, he spluttered, "Oh! Oh! The mouse is speaking. Go on, little mouse, do it again. Tell me off. She's your granddaughter for sure, Yenna. She'll be scary one day, for certain."

Willow hated him. She hated herself, too, for blushing.

"Come on old man," Rock said. "Let Yenna look at your feet and Willow will sort out your larder. How _is_ the gout? Have you eaten any spring greens?"

For a moment, Goshi stared at Rock, malevolently. But then, he meekly allowed the boy to lead him to the fireside chair. Rock helped Yenna to pull off Goshi's socks. Willow thought she hated Rock most of all.

She fled to the larder, where she searched out rotten and mouldy food. This, she flung out into the tall grass outside the back door. Since Goshi had no garden, he had no compost heap, either.

Willow cleaned the larder shelves, then all the plates and ale mugs. Finding Goshi's axe propped against the wall outside, she then furiously chopped firewood until she felt calmer.

By the time Willow returned to Goshi's living room, Yenna was collecting up her pack to leave.

As Goshi saw all three of them out, Rock gave him some final instructions. "Now, you'll wash those filthy clothes tomorrow, old man. And you'll make yourself fresh bread, and you'll bring in clean water every day. And less of the ale! And eat some greens. There's one tree speaker less in the village, now. Healers can't be spared to do your cleaning."

Once they were beyond the tumbled stones of Goshi's abandoned garden, Willow saw Yenna smile at Rock.

"I see you've learned how to handle him," Willow's grandmother observed. "There's more than one way of healing."

"What did you do him, Rock?" asked Willow, still angry. "I'd say he was scared of you. Did you hurt him?"

Rock turned to look at her. He smiled, showing his white teeth. "I only suggested that Yenna might tell Druse he can't look after himself," was his answer.

They struggled down the hill against a sharp wind. On the way, Rock talked to Willow. She thought he might be trying to make up for having shamed her.

"Goshi told me about Druse, and how she lived in that house with him, once," Rock said. "Back then, the house was bright and clean, with coloured curtains at all the windows, and cushions on the chairs. Or so Goshi says. Druse cooked and cleaned and washed all their clothes. But Goshi didn't like the plans she had for him. He threw her out. Now he lives in his own way, he says."

"That's true," put in Yenna. "But I don't know why he had to grow so bitter."

"How did you stand living there, Rock?" Willow wanted to know.

Her curiosity had now started to overcome her hatred of him. She was even willing to admit to herself that that she had just been jealous because he handled the old man so well.

From where she was walking behind Rock, Willow saw him shrug his shoulders. She heard him mutter, "Stone..."

Then he changed the subject. "Do we go straight home, Yenna?" he asked.

"Not quite," was Yenna's gentle reply. "We'll stop at Minty's. I know you get itchy in company boy. And you'd rather live lonely at the Healers' cottages. But some of us welcome a touch of gossip, now and then. Eh, Willow?"

They arrived at Minty's to find a collection of villagers gathered by the hearth. Everyone seemed to be listening to a traveller with long grey hair and a messy beard. The stranger kept shouting and waving his arms about.

"Well, here's more gossip than I could have hoped for," Yenna whispered to Willow.

Minty was wrestling a huge log into the fireplace, just at that moment.

"Welcome, Yenna. Welcome, young'uns," he said, looking up at them. Getting to his feet, he then hurried over to the quiet corner where they stood by the door. In a much lower voice, he added, "You're needed at the mill. The baby's on the way. It's more than a moon early, isn't it, Yenna?"

Yenna nodded, slowly. "Well," she said, "come on then, Willow. You stay with me. Rock, you go up to my cottage as fast as you can. Fetch my birthing-herbs basket."

"Do you know what it looks like?" Willow asked him quickly, as he moved to leave.

He nodded, once, and strode away.

Willow hurried after Yenna to the mill. Anna was in the sleeping room, where she kept walking from the door to the window and back again, over and over.

"That's it, girl," Yenna told her. "Keep moving about and keep that belly working."

Anna looked towards Willow.

"Is she old enough to help with a birthing?" the pregnant woman asked. "Shouldn't there be another woman? What about Nonnie? Or Druse?"

Willow felt Yenna's hand on her shoulder, signalling her to stay quiet.

"Willow's an apprentice tree speaker," Yenna said. "She knows my herbs, and she remembers all that Rinnet and I have taught her." Pressing down gently on Willow's shoulder, she then added, "This baby's related to her, remember?"

Frost tried to help the two tree speakers. He bustled about fetching cloths and blankets, until Willow began to find him a nuisance. Rinnet always said that he was a born worrier, and that he made her jumpy in a crisis.

"Now, Willow," said Yenna, eventually, "this baby's turned out awkward – no doubt it's going to be like its sister – but I think it'll do. First of all, could you get us some tea that's calming, from my pack. I left it by the door there. Frost, carry the pack to the kitchen for Willow, would you?"

Willow understood the message her grandmother had not spoken out loud. After brewing the tea, she persuaded her father to sit down and drink three cups of it. Only then did she pour one to take upstairs for Anna.

By the time Frost noticed he had been tricked, the tea was taking effect.

"You are as devious as your mother," he told Willow, but he was smiling.

Willow allowed him to follow her up the stairs to the sleeping room. There, she made him sit on a chair by the bed.

Anna was already looking tired. After perching on the side of the bed to rest, she would get uncomfortable almost immediately, and have to stand again. When a contraction came, she would rock backwards and forwards and side to side, holding on to the nearest solid object. Yenna repeated her instruction to keep moving about, to keep her belly working.

Willow found a stool to sit on, settling beside Frost. Anna's contractions grew stronger. With each one, she seemed to fold forward, clutching at the bedstead or the back of Frost's chair. Yenna rubbed Anna's back, murmuring encouragement.

Rock arrived with the birthing-herbs basket. Then Yenna sent Frost and Willow downstairs, to help him brew various mixtures in case they were needed.

Willow found herself settling into a cautious companionship with Rock. Together, they did their best to prevent Frost from worrying out loud in front of Anna. They found that if they gave Willow's father a job to do, like feeding wood to the stove or preparing supper, he was able to worry about that, instead.

Anna laboured through the evening and into the night. She sipped herb teas to keep her strength up. Yenna began to add powders of the strongest childbirth herbs, and to whisper to them before dropping them into the cup. Rock and Frost came and went from the sleeping room. Willow perched on her stool, waiting and watching.

When it was almost dawn, Yenna called Frost to come and stand behind Anna. He held her with his arms beneath hers, so that she could squat. Yenna knelt in front, ready to catch the baby.

Rock and Willow attended silently, ready to fetch and carry. Anna grunted, groaned, and howled the animal sounds of childbirth. At last, Yenna caught the new, and still very small, baby girl.

Rock was holding a soft blanket. But when Yenna called for it, he did not move quickly enough for Willow. She grabbed the blanket out of his hands and knelt at Yenna's side. They wrapped the baby quickly. Willow found herself holding the tiny bundle on her knees. She took a long look at her sister's perfect, wrinkled face. Then Yenna lifted the baby into Anna's arms.

Willow and Rock were sent down to the kitchen. They made more tea and sipped it sleepily, listening to loud and exuberant birdsong from outside the window. Yenna would cut the cord, check the afterbirth and clean up.

When Yenna brought an armful of bloodstained cloths to the kitchen for washing, she smiled at them both. "The little one's sleeping safe," she said. "So are her mother and father. You two can work together when you put your minds to it, can't you?"

Then she drew a slow, shuddering breath, and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. Looking at her closely, Willow saw what Rinnet called 'grey around the edges' in Yenna's face.

"Willow," Yenna said, wearily, "there's some riverwhip root in my pack. Could you find it, and add a pinch to a cup of redberry tea for me?"

"Riverwhip is for weak hearts!" Willow exclaimed, shocked.

"I'm eighty-two summers old you know," her grandmother replied, sounding exasperated. "Hurry up!"

TEN

Yenna remained at the mill for five days. She would not leave until she was satisfied that Anna was regaining her strength and the baby was feeding properly. Willow and Rock looked after the Healers' Cottages, the hens, and Goldnose and Dream. When Yenna returned, she looked tired and spent a lot of time sleeping, but otherwise seemed as strong as ever.

She told tales of the strange traveller who was staying at Minty's. According to Yenna, the man smelled mouldy, and had bad teeth and lice. Yet, she said, Druse and Nitta, and some of the other village women, found him compelling. According to Yenna, the women now sat around Minty's hearth every day, listening to the man talk nonsense. Meanwhile, the rest of the villagers were outdoors planting grain.

As spring became summer, the warm dry weather began to feel oppressive. Cottage doors and windows were wedged open to catch every breeze. Mornings and evenings were for working, and afternoons for dozing. Rock took the goats for a walk in the woods each evening, allowing them to graze on herbs and tree bark. Sometimes Willow thought she saw him _talking_ to them. But she could never be certain just by watching his face.

One early morning, Yenna sent Willow down to the village alone, to visit her baby sister and to see that Anna was well. The baby had not yet been named.

Even though dew was still wet on the ground, Willow only needed a thin summer skirt and blouse. She would have preferred to walk barefoot, but there were shimmerflies and other biting insects swarming in the leaf litter beneath the trees. It was not unknown for snakes to cross the path in dry weather. She tried to make her boots ring loudly on the path, to scare any snakes away.

Frost was milling the remainder of last summer's grain when Willow arrived. She covered her ears, hurrying past the mill doorway and into the house. Anna was in the kitchen, resting contentedly in a new rocking chair, with the baby sleeping nearby in a matching cradle.

Dark shadows ringed the young woman's eyes. Her skin looked sallow and wrinkled. But she smiled cheerfully at Willow, whispering, "Have a look at her, isn't she beautiful?"

Willow knelt on the floor to peer at the little face inside the blankets in the cradle.

"Does she need three blankets?" she asked. "It's very warm today."

"Babies need to be kept warm," Anna replied.

Willow looked very closely at her tiny half-sister's head, and gently stroked her little tuft of soft hair. "Her skin looks a bit yellow," she suggested to Anna, nervously.

"It does, doesn't it," said Anna. "But that often happens when babies arrive early. It'll clear soon."

Then Willow remembered something from Rinnet's notebook. "I could bring you dried creeping skittle to make tea," she offered. "If you drink it, she'll get it through your milk. And you should lay her naked outdoors in the sun for a short time every day. Honestly, it really works, Rinnet said so."

Just at that moment, Frost came into the kitchen, brushing flour dust from his hands.

Anna was saying, "I can manage, Willow, thank you all the same." She looked irritably across at Frost, who was walking towards the crib. "Now don't get flour all over your daughter, she's asleep," she added.

Frost immediately ambled out of the kitchen, again, muttering, "Hello, Willow."

Willow blinked. She wished Frost would remember to behave as her father, once in a while. And it seemed Anna was determined to ignore the fact that her baby was Willow's half-sister.

"Well," Willow said, formally, to Anna, "Yenna just sent me to make sure you're all right, but if you don't need anything, I'll be going then."

"Bye, Willow, do come again," Anna whispered in reply.

Next, Willow decided to go looking for Emmie and Hest. Emmie had not kept her promise to visit the Healers' cottages, now that Willow had one of them to herself. That wasn't surprising, since every villager was needed to work in the fields, and Emmie was determined to prove she was hard-working enough to run a cottage of her own. Nevertheless, Willow did want to remind her friend that it was lonely up the hill, with only Yenna and Rock for company.

She went first to Nettle's but there was no one in the barn or the cottage. Both were tidied and swept clean, as though both Hest and Nettle were away. Hurrying on to Nesta's cottage, Willow knocked hard on the front door.

Nesta opened it. Emmie's little brother, Dillie, held onto the folds of his mother's skirt and stared up at Willow.

"Emmie's helping weed the top fields, Willow," Nesta said. "If you're going up, would you take a jug of cold redberry with you? I'll just fetch it from the larder. Emmie will be pleased to see you. Hest's gone off with Nettle. Did you know? Nettle thought he might find his talent better out in the open."

So Willow trudged up to the top fields with the heavy jug. She was grateful for the cool of it against her bare arms. Looking out over the fields, she saw a line of villagers, all with bent backs as they pulled weeds. Emmie was easy to pick out, by the curls of blonde hair tumbling out from beneath her headscarf.

Willow found a shady place to leave the jug, then made her way out among the young wheat stalks.

"Oh, hello," Emmie said distractedly, as Willow moved to stand beside her.

Willow laughed, and accused, "You were daydreaming, weren't you? Who was he?" She began weed-pulling, alongside her friend.

It was too hot to know whether Emmie blushed. She was red-faced already.

Willow changed the subject. "Is Hest all right? she asked. "Your mother said he's gone off with Nettle."

"Well Nettle _had_ to go off, really," Emmie replied. "There was a big argument in Minty's, apparently. Nettle hit the man from the Spice City."

Willow stopped scanning the wheat for weeds and looked across at Emmie with a gasp. " _Nettle_ hit someone? Who? Do you mean the long-haired man that Yenna said smells mouldy?"

"Probably," Emmie answered. "His name's Wolf. He's staying at Druse's, now, because Minty threw him out after the argument. But Nettle probably thought it wouldn't hurt to be out of the way for a while. Anyway, he always does go stone hunting a lot in summer. Hest decided to go as well. You know how loyal to Nettle he is."

"But... but..." Willow stuttered, "How can the smelliest dirtiest man the village has ever seen, next to Goshi, be staying with Druse? She hates dirt and mess."

"Which is why she enjoyed looking after Goshi, I expect," said Emmie, in a tone which implied that Willow was stupid for not working _that_ out for herself.

Willow sighed. "Nesta sent some cold redberry tea," she said. "Could we go and drink some, while you tell me why Nettle hit this... Wolf."

It was a relief to sit in the shade of a hedge, even if the dry grass was prickly. The jug had warmed already, but the tea still felt cool.

Emmie helped herself to a long swallow. Then she explained, "Wolf is a Harvester, Willow. There's a real Harvester in our village."

Willow was too shocked to reply to that, at first. For several heartbeats, she could only stare back Emmie. At last, she managed to say, "No wonder Nettle hit him."

"But they're not as bad as you think, Willow, they're really not," Emmie started to argue. "He came to bring us new medicines..."

Willow interrupted her friend by laughing, harshly. "Emmie," she said, "even I've heard of dusk, and it's not medicine, it makes people stupid."

"Not dusk," Emmie continued, quickly. "Although he may have brought that as well. Haven't you ever wanted to try it? Really? But he brought rare spices. And medicines from the Forest. You and Yenna should take a look. You'd be interested."

"The Harvesters don't believe in the talents," Willow said stubbornly.

"That's true," agreed Emmie. "He did say that, yes. He said that the talents are just people's imagination, and that animals and plants and rocks can't speak because they can't think."

"Was that when Nettle hit him?" Willow asked.

"Well, no. I heard Wolf say that when he was talking to people on Druse's porch one day, and I just thought I'd listen. I wasn't there when Nettle hit him, but apparently that was because he said the Green don't think either."

"But the Green aren't real are they?" said Willow, very surprised by this news. "I thought they were just stories, like the Black Beast. If there really are Green in the Forest, don't tell me there's a real Black Beast as well. I'll never sleep again!"

"I don't know, Willow, I wasn't there when Wolf and Nettle argued. Hest just told me Nettle's very sensitive about the Green. Some people are superstitious about them, aren't they? Really, I'd have thought it was what Wolf said about the talents that upset Nettle."

"Well, I should think so, too," agreed Willow. But she noticed the way Emmie was looking at her. "Emmie, _you_ believe in the talents, don't you?" You know I'm not making things up?"

Emmie got to her feet. "I believe you _think_ the plants talk to you," she replied, sounding embarrassed. "I ought to get back to work, now."

Willow could not think what to say, or do.

"Bye then," she said, bitterly. Then, turning her back on Emmie, she hurried away, blinking tears from her eyes.

She did not feel like going home straight away. Instead, she decided to visit the Grove, hoping the trees might restore her equilibrium. The Grove might also be the coolest place in the midday heat.

Willow stomped through the village with her head down, hoping to avoid having to talk to anyone. Luckily, almost everyone was out in the fields or indoors. She met no one until she reached the last house before the Grove, but there were three people on Druse's porch. The figure talking fiercely, waving his arms about, was the man she had seen at Minty's, just before Anna's baby was born. His hair looked cleaner, now. Druse must have noticed the lice.

Seated on wooden stools, and listening intently, were Druse, and Flax's mother, Nitta. To Willow's horror, Druse looked straight at her, and called out, "Hello, Willow, dear! Come and meet our visitor!"

"I have to go to the Grove," Willow muttered, attempting to hurry on.

"Just come up on the porch for a moment," Druse insisted. She got up from her stool and whispered into the man's ear. He looked curiously in Willow's direction and nodded to Druse.

"Wolf's got something for you to take home to Yenna, dear," Druse called out.

Very reluctantly, Willow stepped onto the porch. There, she waited while Wolf went into the cottage.

Nitta stared suspiciously at Willow through her thick fringe of greasy, greying hair. "I never did trust folk with talents," Nitta said, not obviously speaking to Willow. "You've got no way of knowing if they're telling truth or lies."

Willow glared back at the woman, but did not say anything. Soon, Wolf returned, carrying a large wooden box. As he set the box on the floor of the porch, Druse and Nitta appeared to watch him reverently. Wolf opened the box to reveal a lot of packages. He then selected a few, showing Willow the labels.

"These are Harvesters' medicines," he said. His voice was almost a bark, but she thought he sounded more like a fox than a wolf. "These medicines work better than raw plants. They're collected in the Forest and brought to the city for processing."

Willow held out her hands for the packages and said nothing, but she wrinkled her forehead in puzzlement. How could new medicines work better than the ones that worked already? Either a medicine worked or not. She had no idea what processing was.

Wolf asked her, "Can you read?"

"Yes."

"The labels say what each medicine is for. I'll give you 'stomach-ache,' 'coughs,' 'headache,' and this one's a powder to mix with water and spread on wounds and burns. These are a gift. Later on, if you want more, your village will be able to buy whole boxes like this one. Just send word to the Spice City."

Willow thought, _Why would we do that? We don't have coins and we don't need your medicines._

She turned over one of the packets to read the label, asking out loud, "What kind of headaches is this one for? Is it for headaches with fever or headaches with tiredness, or headaches with bad eating?"

Wolf looked confused for just an instant. Then he said, loudly, "Any headaches, any headaches at all!"

After briefly dipping her head towards Druse and Nitta, Willow fled. She did not go to the Grove, after all. It seemed wrong to take the new medicines in there. In any case, she was beginning to get a headache, herself. In the end, she went home to the Healers' Cottages, where Yenna gave her a mug of fresh nettle beer.

Yenna laughed when presented with the strange medicines. Together, she and Willow unwrapped the packets. They sniffed and prodded the grey and brown powders inside. Neither of them could _hear_ anything at all from any of the powders. Yenna pronounced the new medicines thoroughly dead, and therefore of no interest.

"Let them find a medicine to treat wasting fever, or blindness," she said. "Let them offer us help for an illness we can't already treat. Or make my old joints young again. Then I'll be impressed."

"But Wolf is telling lies as well as giving away useless medicines," Willow reminded her grandmother. "And some people believe him." She could not bear to say that her own best friend was one of those who had begun to question that the talents even existed.

Rock came into the cottage with a fresh bucket of water, just as Yenna answered, "It doesn't hurt people to think, Willow. Folk know the talents are real, even if they can't use them, themselves, because they see _us_ working. It won't take long for them to change their minds, once Wolf's gone on his way. He won't stay long, believe me."

Willow caught sight of Rock's face in the light from the window. She thought he looked afraid.

"Wolf! Hah!" he said, fiercely, as though trying to hide his concern. "A real wolf would laugh to hear a man like that was using its name."

ELEVEN

The heat and the lack of rain began to threaten crops and gardens. Wells in the village were low, so water was used carefully. Willow and Yenna were called to the fields and asked to establish which plants were suffering the most from the drought.

Laying gentle fingers on weak and withered leaves and shoots, they tried to sense which roots extended far enough to reach moisture. Plants whose roots only penetrated the cracked, dry, upper layers of soil, would die without help. Willow and Yenna showed the villagers where to empty buckets of river water. These had to be carried to the fields by horse and cart.

Willow often caught sight of Emmie in the fields. Still angry with her friend, Willow avoided speaking to her.

Wolf continued to preach on Druse's porch to anyone who would listen. Rumours circulated in the fields about the things the Harvester had said, there. Willow listened to the gossip as much as possible, determined not to give Emmie another chance to accuse her of being out of touch.

It was said that Wolf insisted the current lack of rain was not unusual. Apparently, he claimed that villages nearer to the Spice City had made ditches to divert water from rivers and streams into their crop fields. According to Old Weary, Wolf had told the elders the village should pay in coin for a Harvester to come from the city and show them how to do the same. But Henty the riverman said he'd never heard of such nonsense, because all of Warner's fields were uphill of the river. And Old Jesty said it would be far simpler to plant some crops on the water meadows.

In spite of the continuing hot weather, Willow could feel that a great many plants were still growing comfortably. Her name-tree felt huge and exuberant. The stream by the Healers' cottages ran terribly low. The steam bank was drying out and crumbling in places. But the willow tree assured her that its roots went deep, and the deepest earth was still as cool and damp as ever.

One unbearably hot and still night, Willow lay awake on her bed. She was restless and exhausted, wishing she could sleep. The air seemed so thick, she wondered just how long it would be possible for her to keep breathing. Then a flash of light surprised her, at the same time as she felt a sudden movement of fresher air.

"Finally," she said aloud to herself. "A storm."

Stretching out her arms and legs, feeling cool air flow into the cottage from the open door, she listened to the first tentative sounds of raindrops falling onto hard earth. Soon, the pattering increased to a drumming. Then a pounding. There was more lightning, and thunder loud enough to be the roaring of the Black Beast. In spite of it all, Willow fell asleep, at last.

She woke to find herself actually feeling cold, and enjoyed the sensation for a while, before getting dressed. Rain still pattered down, and the patch of sky that she could see through the open doorway was filled with rolls of grey cloud.

Sleepily pulling on her boots and then picking up the water bucket, Willow took a second look out of the open door. There was something about the view that did not seem quite right.

She gazed out at the garden in surprise. There were puddles as big as ponds. The vegetable seedlings had been flattened by the rain. Some of them now lay underwater.

Willow splashed her way to the privy and then to the henhouse, where she opened the door to let the miserable birds out. They fluttered up into a currant bush to dry out their feathers. By noon they would probably have eaten all the berries not ruined by the rain.

Next, Willow began to follow her usual path to the stream. Already, the water was flowing dangerously high and fast. The stream had formed an extra channel around the roots of her name-tree, surrounding its trunk with water. It was too dangerous to attempt to fill the bucket. With a sigh, Willow began squelching her way down towards Yenna's cottage. It might be easier to reach the water from there.

Rock was in Yenna's garden. "I wouldn't go down to the stream yet," he said. "It's not safe. I tried to get water for the goats, but it's like a mill-race. I left the goat pen open so they can drink from the puddles in the garden if they want to. I don't think they can damage it more than the rain's done already. Come in and have some redberry, and wait and see if the stream calms down. That was quite a storm."

Willow followed him indoors, shut the door behind her, and accepted a crust of bread and a mug of tea from Yenna. The pleasure of no longer being too hot was beginning to give way to the misery of having wet feet. Willow stood close to the fire. The rain seemed to have stopped, now. A glimmer of sunshine showed through the glass in the window.

Yenna stood by the window, looking out at the ruined garden. She sighed, irritably. "Humph! I'm too old for this! My bones ache and I should be sleeping in the sun. I suppose I'd best go out and see what's what. Can you see my stick anywhere, Willow? I can't seem to get about without it in the early mornings these days."

Willow started to look for her grandmother's stick, but was distracted by a sudden, churning, roaring noise. She and Rock both rushed towards the window to look out. Yenna hobbled to the door, pulling frantically on the latch.

As the door swung open, the roaring sound grew.

"The goats!" Yenna called out. Then she stepped forward.

Rock lunged after her. "No!" he shouted. "I let them out. I told them to climb up. You don't have to..."

But he was too late. Beyond the doorway, Willow could see a boiling mess of flowing brown water. She rushed to join Rock.

They could see Yenna standing in the drowning garden, not far away. Her back was towards them as she looked across at the goat pen. The water formed eddies around her skirt, carrying leaves and sticks which collected in its folds.

Then a small wave buffeted Yenna behind the knees and she fell into the water. It happened so fast, she did not even cry out. Her feet must have slipped from under her.

Both Rock and Willow moved instantly to go to her aid. As they did so, there was an enormous cracking sound. The walls of the cottage shook, causing Willow to look away from the door, just for a moment. She noticed Rock turn his head in the same direction. A heavy branch had been carried by the flood and slammed against the cottage. Willow could see it through the window in the instant before she turned back to help Yenna.

But now Yenna was gone.

Willow stepped forwards, intending to hurry straight out into the water. Instead of doing the same, Rock flung his arms around her waist, holding her back. The water was still rising, moment by moment. In horror, she watched the flood racing past, carrying more branches and other debris.

Water swirled around their feet, flowing in through the door. Mud, stones, twigs and sticks were carried with it.

Still, Willow struggled to leave the doorway. "Let me go," she insisted. "We have to help Yenna!"

Rock tightened his arms until he hurt her. He shouted above the crashing, tearing noise of the flood, "There's nothing we can do! Just look at it!"

He paused, and swallowed. Then he spoke quietly, close to Willow's ear. "She slipped and fell into the water. You saw. We couldn't have reached her, anyway. It pulled her away so fast. We can't help her. She's gone."

The water rose inside the cottage until a small wave flowed into the fireplace and the flames hissed, steamed and died. There were thumps and creaking, grinding noises outside the walls.

Rock loosened his grip, but would not let go of Willow. He tugged her over to the table. "Climb up, come on," he said.

Willow felt him clamber onto the table behind her, keeping one arm firmly hooked around her waist. He then began to pull her up behind him. Sliding herself round, Willow turned so they were face to face. The water tugged at her skirt and crept towards her knees.

"But we have to help Yenna!" she insisted desperately.

Rock leaned forward. With his face close to hers, he said, clearly, "Willow, if you go outdoors now you will die. The water is very fast and it's carrying rocks and branches. You saw." He hesitated a moment, then added, "And you might be Warner's last tree speaker."

After that, he pulled on her waist more sharply. This time, she did not resist, allowing him to help her up onto the table. He let go of her then. For a long time, they crouched miserably side by side.

The floodwater rose high enough to ruin all the food that had been stored on the cool larder floor, and most of the medicines in Yenna's herb cupboard. Meanwhile, outdoors, the clouds cleared, and sunshine leaked into the cottage.

"It's my fault," Willow said, eventually. "I knew her joints were stiff and her heart was weak. I should have gone after her quicker. I could have got her back inside in time. I should have known she'd fall over. Why did I let her go out and get her skirt all wet like that, anyway?"

She glared at Rock, wanting him to confirm that it was all her fault.

He only hugged his arms around his knees and hunched his back.

"My fault. All my fault, really," he muttered. "She didn't know how well I could talk to the goats. I wouldn't tell her. She asked, but I didn't want to discuss it."

"Fool!" Willow told him angrily, "Yenna's not daft. She would have noticed, even if you didn't tell her."

Then Willow felt the need to hug her own knees and hunch up in silent anguish. She had begun to understand that there was little hope of Yenna being still alive.

Something was bumping annoyingly against the table. Rock uncurled enough to reach into the water and retrieve Yenna's walking stick. He hurled it to the far side of the room, where it floated to the hearth and wedged against the chimney.

It seemed a very long time until the water began to flow away again, leaving mud and gravel, sticks and rocks, to show where it had been. Willow sat, dejectedly, with her legs hanging over the edge of the table. Rock paddled across the floor to look out of the front door.

"No sign of her," he said dully. "I can see Goldnose. She's climbed a tree. I told them... Yenna didn't need to..." He shook his head and waded out onto the doorstep.

Willow climbed stiffly down. She splashed to the hearth and propped the walking stick against the wall. Then she wandered about inspecting the damage in the cottage, while she waited for Rock to come back. He was not long.

"Nothing," he said, unhappily. "But it looks as if your cottage is still dry. The hens are roosting in the trees, and Dream's behind your privy."

After the water had receded still further, they decided to try to get to the village. It was an exhausting struggle. Much of the path ran close to the stream and a lot of it was still under water, or drowned in thick mud. Several trees had fallen. In one place, a huge boulder blocked their way.

They scrambled through thick, sodden undergrowth between the trees. Time after time, Willow caught sight of a shape that could have been Yenna, and rushed forward, her heart pounding. All she ever found were tree branches draped in river weed, or logs buried in mud.

The flood had come down to the river, and now, villagers were out surveying the damage. Henty the riverman had taken charge. As Willow and Rock described what had happened at the Healers' cottages, he shook his head gravely.

"There's not much hope, Willow," he said. With a sigh, he continued, "Young Flax's mother, Nitta, has gone as well. They say she was crossing the cart bridge when the water came rolling down the river all in one rush.

"I could tell the river was rising, and I went to the mill at first light, to tell Frost to hoist the flour sacks. He saved most of them, so no one in the village is going to starve, anyway. But I never expected the water to rush like that. Never heard of anything like it. It's a terrible thing to lose two villagers just like that, terrible. I just wish I'd had more warning. We'll send a gang up the stream from the village as far as the Healers' cottages, just as soon as it's safe, Willow. We'll try our best to find Yenna. As for Nitta, I'm afraid she could be half way down the valley by now."

Minty arrived. He made Willow and Rock come back with him to sit by his fireside. There were a collection of shocked and damp villagers there already. Minty provided hot tea, and even some dry clothes.

Flax was among the gathering. His face was very pale, and his eyes were dull and dark. As Willow came close to the fire, he looked across at her.

"Hello, Willow," Flax said. "I heard the Harvesters have killed your grandmother as well as my mother. I'll bet they'd rather it had been my father on the cart bridge."

At this, Willow began shaking. Knowing it was the effects of shock did not make the process any more bearable. Her thoughts seemed to slip out of her own control. For quite some time, she was hardly aware of anything at all. Someone wrapped her in blankets and removed her boots. And someone must have fed her hot redberry tea, because she could taste it, and her tongue felt burned.

Much later, she and Rock returned home and quietly began to clear the muck and debris from Yenna's cottage.

On the third day after the flood, Old Jesty and Henty came up the hill to speak with them.

Henty stood at Yenna's hearthside. "We've searched upstream and down, but we haven't found her," he said. "She won't have survived, I'm sure of that."

Rock made a small choking noise. Willow caught the look on his face as he turned to stare into the fire. She realised that he, too, had half believed that Yenna might come back.

Old Jesty took Willow's trembling hand in his own wrinkled, sun- browned one. He said, "I've talked to animals and birds and insects. Talked and listened. None of them have any sense of Yenna at all. She's dead. If she were alive they could help us find her, but she's not there to them anymore. It's time for you to tree speak, so you know for certain."

"I tried," Rock said, very quietly. "With animals. But I'm not very good at it. I hoped that was why I didn't..."

Old Jesty pulled a bit of cloth from his pocket and used it to wipe his eyes. "Best to ask a plant you know well," he told Willow.

So Willow led the way to her name-tree. Rock braced his feet against its roots and steadied her as she stood in the thick mud. Jesty took hold of her hands and laid them onto the bark of the trunk. She took a shaky breath, then asked the tree to help her to find Yenna.

It was just as Jesty had said. Yenna was gone completely. Willow felt the tree's distress at the surprise of the flood, and the battering its roots had taken, but it was settling again. It seemed to wish to comfort her, because it could tell that she was in pain, but she did not think it understood what was wrong.

She knew that it recognised Yenna in her own thoughts, but not as a separate being any longer.

Willow patted the trunk distractedly, before stepping away from the tree.

Old Jesty lent her his bit of cloth to try and dry her tears. Rock had to make do with the back of his own hand.

After Henty and Old Jesty had left, shaking their heads in sorrow, Rock and Willow sat by the fire in Rinnet's cottage for a long time, in silence. Willow felt chilled, although the sun shone brightly outside. She had spent so long in wet clothes over the last few days, it was impossible to imagine ever feeing warm again.

Eventually, Rock stirred. "Can you call to Rinnet through the plants, like the marsh villagers called to her?" he asked.

"No," she replied. "I think the plants in the marsh villages decided for themselves to call for help. The marsh villagers had to send a message with Rummy the Trail. Old Jesty will send a letter to Rinnet, with the first traveller who's going that way."

She wanted Rinnet, of course, but seeing her wasn't going to bring Yenna back.

Much later on, Rock asked, curiously, "Who is Flax's father?"

Willow was grateful to have something new to think about. She answered, "I don't really know. He's gone from the village, whoever he was. Emmie told me once that people used to say he was half-Green."

Rock went to stand by the window and stare out at the ruined garden. "It's strange what people say." He sounded lost in thought. "I've heard the harvest of the Forest will change the way the rain falls."

TWELVE

Henty returned to the Healers' Cottages, some days later. He brought with him a riverwoman from Woodcut, the next village downstream from Warner.

The woman's name was Ripple. She sat in the sunshine on Yenna's doorstep, which Rock had swept clean of silt and mud. Ripple's hair and clothing were still wet from her hectic journey. Ripple explained that two women's bodies had been carried into Woodcut by the flood. Then she apologised for not having come to Warner sooner.

Henty interrupted her. "Don't fret about that," he said. "That river's angrier than a wolf with its tail on fire. You were daft to risk coming upstream today. But I won't say I'm sorry that you did. Folk like to know where their loved ones lie."

"We buried them both in our grove," Ripple continued, lifting her head to look at Willow. "We laid the older woman under an oak tree, and the younger one beside a patch of tranet. The grove was awful wet, but it was all done well, in the end. There was a short drumming, too, to settle them."

She then carefully described each of the dead women, as far as she was able. Ripple listed all the clothes they had worn, and everything found in their pockets. Willow listened in silence.

All around, birds sang happily. The stream burbled. Breezes rustled leaves and branches. The weather had returned to dry summer heat as if the storm had never happened. There were just a few puddles left in the shadiest places.

Ripple soon returned to Warner. From there, she would have to navigate her boat downstream. Henty thought the angry river would try to harm her, but could not persuade her to stay.

That evening, Willow and Rock walked down the hill once more. They joined the villagers of Warner who were gathered in their own Grove, saying goodbye to Yenna and Nitta. There was no drumming, because it had already been done. In any case, Druse argued that Nitta would not have wanted one.

To the surprise of all the villagers, Goshi had creaked and grunted his way down Screed Hill. He stood leaning stiffly on his walking stick, in the shadow of the trees. Rock went over to stand beside him.

Old Jesty stood in the centre of the gathering. "We're all here to say goodbye to Yenna, our tree speaker and healer, mother and grandmother, friend..." he began, before lowering his head to his chest and resting for a moment. "...friend and teacher," he eventually went on.

Everyone then said together, "Goodbye, Yenna."

Jesty stood aside, to allow Druse to come forward next. She said, "And we are here to say goodbye to Nitta, friend and cottager, and mother."

Willow looked for Flax in the gathering. When she spotted him, he was shaking his head.

"Goodbye, Nitta," everyone said, more quietly than before.

For a while, people continued to stand about under the trees of the Grove. Some talked quietly, and some were looking silently down at the earth. Some touched the trees, or rested with their backs against their trunks.

Willow ached, and she did not want to talk to any of the villagers. She chose an oak tree. Putting her hands flat against its trunk, she closed her eyes and lost herself in its huge, slow being. Letting the ache inside her chest meet the tree's strength, it was a relief to feel how small she was in comparison.

Eventually, looking around for Rock, she noticed him standing with Old Jesty, who was wiping his eyes again. As Willow approached, they both straightened their backs and made an effort to look more cheerful.

Jesty patted Rock on the shoulder. "Come down early then, boy," he said, "I start work directly after breakfast."

Later, on the walk home, Rock explained. "I'm going to come to the village sometimes, to learn animal talking with Jesty. Do you mind?"

"Of course not," Willow replied. "I can manage. You don't have to look after me all the time."

She wanted nothing more than to be left alone to live quietly at the Healers' Cottages, talking only to plants.

For a long time afterwards, the hot, dry weather continued. In spite of the brief drenching the storm had given them, leaves everywhere soon looked ragged and dusty. Many plants, both wild and cultivated, shrivelled up and died. Willow did not mourn them. Unlike people, the plants of any one kind were all pretty similar. And there were always a few that had survived in shady places, or along streams or rivers. Only Willow's name-tree seemed unique to her. She worried for it, but, although its leaves were yellowing here and there, it assured her its roots could still reach water.

Rock kept Yenna's cottage clean and tidy, and looked after the goats. But he also began to spend a lot of time in the village with Old Jesty. Even when Rock was around at the Healers' Cottages, he did not speak much.

With Yenna gone forever, and Rinnet still away, the Healers' Cottages felt empty. Willow knew that the home she had lived in all her life had changed with Yenna's death. It could never be the same again. She found that she welcomed the loneliness. Even so, it was not long before there were visitors.

Frost was the first to climb the hill. He sat for a long time in Rinnet's chair. Willow felt that he was looking about the cottage to try to judge how well she kept it.

He explained, anxiously, that he could not offer her a home at the mill, because, what with Anna and the baby, there was no room.

"I'll see you settled somewhere else, though, if you want to come down to the village," he said. "You could certainly help with the work at the mill."

"No," Willow replied firmly, although she did feel guilty for not wanting to help her father. "I'm a tree speaker, and now I'm the only one."

Frost leaned forward in the chair. "Willow," he said. "You've had an awful shock and you need time to get over it. Don't work too hard for a while. But, later on, do you think you could come to the mill and look at the baby?"

"What's wrong?" Willow asked him sharply. "Why haven't you named her yet?"

"We thought we'd name her at longest days," he replied. "She's all right, really, but she seems frail to me. She's not growing like I remember you doing."

He smiled, and laughed. "Rinnet brought you into the mill every time she was in the village. Between one moon and the next you could double in size, as I remember."

Willow returned the conversation to her baby sister, "Does she feed well? Does she sleep well? Does she cry loudly?"

Frost shrugged. "I don't really know, Willow," he answered. "Anna takes care of her, and she tells me everything's fine, but I don't know. I'd be really grateful if you'd check on them sometime."

"Did you tell Anna you were going to ask me to come?"

"No... she..."

"Well, how can I look at the baby without Anna knowing?"

"You can't. I'm sorry, Willow. I just thought you might be able to think of a way. I'm sorry."

Willow realised that her father was really miserable. She wanted to feel sorry for him, but she was angry.

"Tell Anna you want your tree speaker daughter to look at her baby sister," she said. " _Then_ I'll come to the mill."

Frost left without promising anything.

A few days later, Hest came visiting, having returned from his travels with Nettle. Rock had gone to see Old Jesty, and Willow was at work in Rinnet's vegetable garden. She had made a little trench around some leeks that had survived the flood, and was patiently filling the trench with water.

Hest came strolling past the pitiful vegetables. Willow noticed he wore a new belt hung with tools, and a sleeveless leather jacket covered in pockets. She immediately told him he looked like a homeless pedlar, but was unspeakably pleased to see him.

They tried to hug, but his new tools jabbed at Willow, and her muddy hands marked his jacket.

"I may leave home for a while soon," he told her, seriously. "I might have to travel."

Then, after respectfully saying how sorry he was about Yenna, he listened as Willow told as much as she could bear to about the flood. Only once they had dealt with the most painful news, did Hest explain that he had found his talent.

"When the flood came to Warner, Nettle and I were higher up in the hills," he began. "We were camped by a big pink and white boulder and we were listening to find out where it came from, because it was different from all the other stone around there. I tried really hard, but I could only ever get little hints of stone listening, and I got pretty bored, because Nettle was getting whole conversations and rocks speak very, very slowly.

"There were storms around that night, and we spread a cloth on the ground to catch rainwater, because we were running out and there wasn't a stream or a spring nearby. But it didn't rain at all where we were. I know there was a storm away up over the Forest, because I watched the lightning.

"Anyway, in the morning, when I woke up, I thought it must have rained while I was sleeping, because I had this feeling of lots and lots of water flowing, and I could still hear rain in my head. I got up to look at our rain trap but there was nothing. Everything was dry.

"I thought it was a bit strange, but then – this bit is hard to tell, Willow – I felt that I was inside water. I was standing on a dry hillside, but at the same time I was in water inside the ground and on top of it, rushing down, just racing down with nothing to stop it. Nettle said I fell down on the ground. When we talked about it later, he said I might be a water reader."

Confused, Willow shook her head. "I've never heard of one," she said.

"Neither had I," Hest continued. "Nettle said it's very rare, and it's like stone listening, but different. Henty says there might be a water reader in one of the low villages near the Spice City. He says if I want to find one, to help me learn to use my talent, I'll need to travel from village to village downstream, and ask among the rivermen and women."

"But I'll miss you!" Willow objected. "You've only just come back."

"I won't go for a while," Hest assured her.

She thought he looked taller than when she had seen him last, and stood straighter. He turned to walk away from Rinnet's cottage.

"Don't go," Willow called out.

He waved in the direction of Yenna's cottage. "Don't be angry," he said, then, "but I made Emmie come up with me. She's waiting by Yenna's wood pile."

Emmie soon appeared, peeking around the edge of the cottage.

"We both feel terribly for you, Willow," said Hest. "We both miss Yenna a lot. Emmie wanted to tell you before, but she was afraid you were still angry with her."

"Thank you," said Willow. "I was still angry, a bit."

She noticed the stern look Hest gave Emmie, who spread her hands out at her sides.

"Hest was angry with me too," Emmie said. "But I can't help the way I think. I still want to be friends with you both."

It felt awkward, but the three of them soon began to talk of other things. Gradually, Willow began to relax. Hest described his time in the hills with Nettle. He talked of huge cliffs of broken rock, waterfalls and hidden caves. He said that once, he had seen the edge of the Forest, a long way in the distance. It had looked menacing. Hest had even been able to make out the scar at its foot, where the Harvesters were.

Emmie talked of working in the village, frantically planting crops to replace those lost in the storm. She reported that everyone agreed next winter would be tough, but there should be enough food if people were careful. And the thick layer of silt that the flood had deposited in the water meadows might be used for planting next spring.

When Emmie seemed to have run out of news, Willow remembered to ask, "Is Nettle back in the village? Did he come back with you, Hest?"

"No," Hest answered. "He went on down the river to see what the flood might have left. He thought he might find rare stones or metals."

Hest turned to look at Emmie. "He also said he wouldn't mind if I listened to Wolf a bit," he said. "To see what the fuss is about. I could go with you, if you like, Emmie, as long as you don't expect me to believe him."

"All right," Emmie agreed, sounding less than certain, "just as long as you don't get upset if I decide that I do."

After that, Willow and Emmie teased Hest until he removed his new tool belt. Willow wiped her hands clean on a patch of grass, and the three friends hugged each other warmly. Hest and Emmie promised to visit Willow whenever they could, and left for the village.

As soon as they were gone, Willow found herself looking forward to their return. On the other hand, she also hoped that no villagers would require a tree speaker for a while, yet. She still felt very raw and strange.

Unfortunately, the next visitor to the Healers' Cottages was Druse. She arrived as Willow was helping Rock to pull the last of the dried and dirty river weed from the lower branches of Yenna's fruit trees. Willow was perched in the fork of an apple tree, removing ruined apples and a swag of stiff grey weed from the branch above Rock.

Looking down to see Druse on the path, Willow swore. Then she pretended not to have noticed the visitor. But Druse came to stand a little way from the foot of the tree, staring curiously at Rock.

As Willow dropped down to join them, Druse handed Rock a little basket of Wolf's dead medicines.

"Take these, dear," Druse said. "I heard Yenna's were destroyed in the flood."

She clearly expected Rock to carry the basket into the cottage, leaving her alone with Willow. Rock remained where he was. He slowly indicated the garden in which they stood, and the wood beyond.

"Plenty more to choose from," he said.

Ignoring him, Druse then addressed Willow. "I'm sorry I couldn't come before, dear, but I've been looking after Flax, poor boy."

"Is he still going to hold a skin dance?" Rock asked.

Willow did not say anything at all.

Druse looked flustered, but recovered quickly. "Well that's just it," she answered Rock. "He's obviously very upset, and he's trying to take his mind off things by planning this dance. He wants it to be next full moon, at longest days."

"I'll be there," said Rock, seriously.

"We're hoping it won't take place," said Druse. "It's really not a suitable thing for young people to be doing. Wolf says that drumming and dancing encourages a dangerous connection with forces we don't understand, and I must say, I agree. I've been trying to convince Flax that it's not what his mother would have wanted."

"Yenna was happy for me to drum and dance," Willow said, ending her silence. "If Flax holds his skin dance, I'll go along with you, Rock."

After that, Druse left quickly.

"Don't worry about tree speaking, Willow," she called back over her shoulder. "I can deal with any healing that needs doing while you are coping with your sad loss."

THIRTEEN

After Druse's visit, Willow decided to go to the village and visit Flax, just to spite the annoying woman. But first, she explained her intention to Rock.

"Flax hasn't asked for a tree speaker," she said, "but I doubt he asked for help from Druse, either. I'll take him some strengthening herbs, and the tea Rinnet uses for shock."

Rock seemed delighted, and offered to go with her.

"You can distract him while I look closely at his hair and see if there's any green in it," he said.

"You'll be polite, if you're coming with me," replied Willow. She thumped him gently on the back. "Why don't you bring your drum with you? That'll annoy Druse."

So Rock and Willow arrived at Nitta's one-roomed cottage some time later, both carrying their drums tucked under their arms. Rock had to knock on the door loudly, several times, before Flax opened it. But when he saw who it was, Flax let them in straight away.

The cottage smelled worse than Goshi's house. There was no fire burning. Ashes had blown out of the fireplace and covered scraps of food that were lying on the floor. All sorts of other things were also in untidy heaps on the floor. Two beds and two chairs were buried under discarded clothes, blankets and grubby towels. Beside the back door, a water bucket had overturned, and a dark stain showed where the water had soaked the wooden floor.

Flax must have noticed Willow staring at the mess. When she turned to look towards him, he shrugged. "I'm doing whatever I want, now old Nitta's gone," he said, pushing a strand of matted hair away from his eyes.

He rummaged around under one of the beds and withdrew his drum. Kicking a chair out of his way, he then sat down cross-legged on the floor.

Willow crouched down beside him. "Would you like to drum for Nitta?" she asked, uncertainly.

Ignoring her, Flax glanced at Rock, who then sat, too, settling his drum between his knees.

"I would like to drum for myself," Flax finally answered Willow's question. "And to annoy Druse, who usually knocks on my door at about this time of day."

Rock began to drum steadily, and quite loudly. Then Flax began drumming, even more loudly. After a while, Willow smiled, and joined in. Her drum was small, but she hit it as hard as she could. Her hands stung, and it felt good.

Flax stopped, abruptly, holding up one hand. Only then could Willow hear a loud knocking at the door. After that short pause, Flax lowered his hand and all three of them resumed the drumming. Grinning with pleasure, they hit the skins as fiercely as they could.

Much later, after Druse was long gone, Flax threw himself backwards to lie on the floor. Willow's hands felt numb.

Rock stood up. "Is there anything to drink?" he asked.

Flax clambered to his feet, too. "Nothing at all," he said, slapping Rock on the shoulder. He was laughing as if he had just made a joke.

Then Flax tilted his head as if suddenly remembering something. "I was going to get the pole ready for the skin dance, today," he added. "Dew and Nipper are going to help. They'll be waiting in the Grove. Want to come?"

He looked down at Willow, although she knew that it was Rock he was really asking.

"I only came to bring you these, really," she answered. Then she explained about the teas. Flax took them from her, but she suspected he had no intention of actually using them.

"Thanks, Willow," he said, flinging the teas in the direction of a chair. "Have anything you like in payment. Help yourself."

Willow turned to look at Rock. "You go and help put the dance pole up, if you want," she told him. "I'll find you later. I'm going to look for Hest and Emmie."

Straight away, Flax and Rock set off for the Grove. They carried their drums with them, in case Druse was at home.

Meanwhile, Willow picked up a small strip of leather from the floor in Nitta's cottage. She used this to attach her own drum on to her belt.

Arriving at Nettle's barn, she found both Hest and Emmie, who were just preparing to leave.

"We're going to listen to Wolf," Hest explained, "to learn his secrets, and use them against him."

Emmie frowned. "I'm very pleased to see you, Willow," she said, "but you won't encourage Hest to embarrass me, will you? It's a serious meeting and Wolf's a guest in the village. Neither of you are to get up to mischief if you're going to come with me. All right?"

Hest and Willow nodded, solemnly. Later, as they followed Emmie towards Druse's cottage, it was impossible to avoid giggling behind her back.

"I can hear you, you silly witherbirds!" Emmie soon called out at them.

The group of villagers on Druse's porch were already gossiping about the skin dance. Willow guessed the conversation had been triggered by Flax and Rock, drumming as they went past on their way to the Grove.

To her horror, she recognised Anna's voice joining the discussion. "The elders must put a stop to it!" Anna said, loudly. "I won't have my child exposed to such wildness. I want her to grow up in a safe and settled world. Talents, and stirring up forces we can't see – it's dangerous!"

Willow began to look more closely at the group of villagers. They were seated on wooden stools and chairs, all in a huddle at one end of the porch. A space at the other end was clear. Presumably, that was for Wolf, since all the villagers faced that way. Neither Wolf, nor Druse, was visible at that moment. By Anna's feet, there was a wicker basket, from which the little fist of Willow's sister protruded.

Next to Anna, sat two other young women, Linzee and Nonnie. Nonnie began complaining about the nonsense talked by drummers. It soon became clear that she meant Old Jesty, although she did not say his name. Several other women appeared to agree with her. Thankfully, there were no elders present at the gathering. Apart from Hest, the only two men on the porch were Nab, a sour-looking cottager known for his cruelty to animals, and Emmie's older brother, Trasket.

Emmie climbed up onto the porch without hesitation, and Hest soon followed. After taking a few deep breaths, Willow joined them. A sudden quiet seemed to fall as she stepped onto the porch.

Just moments later, Druse emerged from her cottage doorway. "Oh!" she cried, clapping her hands. "Young visitors! Oh, do come and sit down, dears. All the chairs are all taken, so you'll have to sit on the floor at the front, here."

"Where she can keep an eye on us," Hest whispered.

Druse sat down on the remaining free chair, just beside the door. As soon as she was settled, Wolf walked pompously out into the sunshine. He placed a small wooden box and a clay mug on a little table by the door. A jug of water stood under the table, where it could not be knocked over.

Wolf looked slowly around the gathering as if noting each person's presence. Finally, his gaze rested on the three at the front and he frowned. He returned to the box on the table, opened the lid, dipped his finger inside, and appeared to taste whatever was in it.

Then he lifted his chin, raised his hands, and began to speak. He talked without pausing for replies or questions, and everything he said seemed to be a statement.

"The village of Warner has suffered grief and loss. The loss of two tree speakers is considered by some of you to be tragic. However, I have come to you from the city, where we had received news of another community who had lost their tree speakers. We offered them our aid, but they declined. Instead, they sent a message here, to Warner. Your tree speaker, Rinnet, foolishly set off for the marsh villages, whose people suffer only because they were too proud to accept help from the city.

"You have no need of tree speakers. The city will provide you with medicines. All we ask is reasonable payment. If you do not possess coins, send your young people to work in the city, where they can earn coin, payable to the village each summer, at longest days. Let me tell you, when they experience the benefit of hard work, they'll soon lose interest in music and dancing. They only insist on such dangerous occupations because they are bored." Willow thought Wolf was staring at Hest, as he said this.

Soon, Willow had heard quite enough. As soon as Wolf stopped talking in order to pour himself a mug of water, she got up to leave. Swallowing her anger at Emmie for even listening to such hateful talk, Willow eased herself quietly down from the porch.

Ignoring the stares of Wolf and his congregation, she set off for the Grove. It was not long before she noticed Hest fall into step beside her.

"How can Emmie listen to all that rubbish?" she asked, just as they were entering the comfort of the Grove.

Hest walked silently for a few steps before answering.

"Emmie's really desperate to move out of Nesta's cottage and have some space to herself," he said, eventually. "She works hard for her mother, and for the village, and she doesn't complain much. But you must see how she might be jealous of you, Willow. You don't have to work in the fields, and the villagers give you food and stuff, because you have a mysterious skill that they don't. And you've got a cottage all to yourself."

"Emmie would go mad if she lived at the Healers' Cottages. There's no one to talk to and no gossip," Willow snapped, irritably.

Then, because it was her good friend Hest she was talking to, she admitted, "I don't know if the villagers will want a tree speaker's apprentice for much longer, if many more of them listen to Wolf. I'm not sure what I'll do, then."

Hest stopped walking. He stood looking up into the thick canopy of leaves above their heads. "The plants still talk to you, though," he said.

After that, they went on in silence, until they came to the clearing. Here, Flax, Nipper, Dew and Rock had already raised a skin dance pole. The pole was a smooth young tree trunk, with a metal ring fixed to the top, from which hung ropes of slackvine.

Willow felt a small shiver of excitement as she looked at it. The dancers would have strips of stitchbark threaded through their own pierced flesh. The stitchbark would then be tied to the slackvine ropes, linking each dancer to the central pole.

Nipper had brought a jug of cider, which was passing around between the three boys and Dew. They all sat on the grass, admiring the pole. Hest and Willow made their way over to join them.

"We just listened to Wolf speaking," said Willow, disgustedly. "He talks as bad as he smells."

Flax spat into the grass.

Rock laughed. "What do you expect?" he said. "That man's a Harvester. But, don't worry, Willow. If you want to see him run, just shout, 'Look out! There's a Rat behind you!' "

Willow and everyone else just looked at Rock in puzzlement.

Seeing their expressions, he added, "Do you mean to say that none of you know about the Rats?"

"The rats in the Spice City were all poisoned by the Harvesters," said Nipper.

Rock looked uneasy. "I don't mean those rats," he said, quickly. "I mean the people who call themselves Rats. People in the city who disagree with the Harvesters."

As Rock stared at the young villagers, Willow thought he looked bitterly amused.

"Goshi knows," he went on. "I'll bet a lot of villagers know, but they don't talk about it. Maybe they thought it didn't matter because the Harvesters didn't reach this far. Well, they do now."

Nipper had obviously been thinking things through. "So these people called themselves 'the Rats' because the Harvesters had already made themselves the enemies of real rats," he said, "...when they poisoned them all. I wonder if it worked, really. There must be an awful lot of rats in a city. They eat..."

Rock interrupted him. "It worked, believe me," he said loudly. "That's enough about rats."

"Is it true, what I've heard about Goshi's house being full of coins?" Flax wanted to know, a few moments later.

"Don't get excited about coins," Rock answered. "You don't know how lucky you are to live without them. But no, Goshi's house is filled with dust and dirt, mainly. I think he's got some coins, somewhere, but he wouldn't let _me_ see them."

Willow was hoping that Rock might speak about his background. She wondered where he had become so bitter about coins. But then Hest gave a sudden yelp, and everyone turned to look at him. The cider jug was now overturned on the grass. Hest's feet and the hems of his trousers were wet with splashed cider.

"Oh, bull's balls!" he said. "I'm sorry, Nipper. I tried to water-read it. It must be harder to do with cider than plain water."

"Do what?" asked Willow.

Hest tried to dry his boots with a burdock leaf. "It's to do with what water is like," he answered, sounding almost shy as he tried to explain. "It's always moving, all the time. When I try to read some close by, sometimes it seems to speak in movement. I've been practising with jugs of water, to see if I can get them to just bubble up, but not spill. It's not easy. I always seem to spill some. I've been doing it so often, I just forgot and tried it on the cider. I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry, Nipper."

"No problem," said Nipper. "Let's go to the river and fill the jug up. I want to see you do it again."

So then, the six of them spent the rest of the morning watching in amazement as Hest practised water reading. Jug after jug of water bubbled over and spilled. In the end, Hest informed them that he could sense rain approaching. That was welcome news, but it reminded them there was a lot of work still to do in the fields.

Soon after that, Nipper returned to the forge. Flax, Dew and Hest headed up to the top fields, to see what needed doing there. Rock and Willow then went home to the quiet of the Healers' Cottages, where they had tasks of their own in the gardens.

Normally, at longest days there would be a rest from summer work. Villagers would picnic in the water meadows, or hike along the valley, or into the hills. It was usually a time to search out a different view, and a change from routine. But this summer, most people just continued working, with little chance for celebration. It was more important to ensure there would be some crops to harvest before winter.

At least there was rain, at last, just as Hest had predicted. Though it was not enough to raise the water level in the village wells.

At previous longest days, Willow had accompanied her mother and grandmother on trips to the hillsides at night, gathering herbs by moonlight. Or she had trailed behind them along the stream bank, picking water plants. Now, there was only the skin dance to look forward to. She had expected to be invited to her baby sister's naming ceremony, but there was no word from the mill.

The night of the skin dance was dry. As Willow entered the Grove with Rock, a light wind blew softly through the trees. Leaves rustled as if to remind the dancers that the trees would share the dance.

Rock and Willow joined Hest and Emmie to sit on one of Nettle's furs. Emmie had made honey cake, as was traditional at longest days. Hest had brought a cider jug.

The fire in the fire pit began to blaze. The young people of Warner sat about on furs or blankets, chattering and laughing.

Those intending to dance removed their boots, and Flax took up his position beside the dancing pole.

He raised both arms above his head until everyone had stopped talking. Willow could see firelight burnishing his face, and moonlight silvering his hair.

He grinned. "Right then," he said, "who's first."

FOURTEEN

As Hest and Rock hurried to join the queue forming at the skin dance pole, Emmie got up to follow them. She looked back at Willow, obviously expecting her to go, too.

"I'll just watch the first dance," Willow said. "You go on."

After giving her one doubtful look, Emmie set off. Biting into a slice of honey cake, Willow settled down to observe what went on.

Flax pierced each dancer's skin with a wickedly sharp slice of knifegrass stem. He then threaded a sliver of stitchbark through the wound, and attached that to a rope. No one fainted, though Nipper looked a bit sick and wobbly at first.

Nipper had insisted on a chest piercing. That would be more painful than an arm or wrist, which almost everyone else asked for. Even so, Nipper was soon hopping from foot to foot, as though he could not wait for the dance to start.

Willow frowned as she saw Hest remove his shirt and accept a chest piercing, as well. As Flax cut Hest's chest, Willow studied her friend's face, carefully. It was hard to judge his expression in the changing light. He seemed to stare over Flax's shoulder at something invisible, and did not appear to flinch.

When Rock also removed his shirt, Willow thought she could see faint scars on his chest. _He's done this before_ , she thought. Rock looked across at Willow and grinned at her. She glared back, tired of the way he never talked about his past.

Next, Dew and Ginger had their upper arms pierced. Then it was Emmie's turn. She held up her hand to daintily accept a small wound between her thumb and forefinger. As she stood waiting for the dance to begin, she waved cheerfully at Willow with her free hand.

Soon, there was only one rope left. Flax took a knifegrass slice from the pile at his feet, raising it high so it was bathed in moonlight. Solemnly, he pierced his own chest.

All the dancers, and all the other young people gathered in the Grove, began to sing the first verse of the skin dance song. Everyone knew it, even if they had not actually taken part in a skin dance before. Willow could hear excitement in the voices around her as she joined in.

At the start of the second verse, the dancers began to move around the pole. They trod cautiously at first, learning how to balance against the tension of the ropes. Each person had to space themselves between the dancers in front and behind. By the third verse, everyone appeared to be sharing the rhythm, pacing smoothly in a wide circle enclosing the fire.

Watching Emmie, Willow saw her friend relax and skip the dance steps when she was furthest from the fire. Then Emmie would tense with concentration as her rope swung over the flames. If a dancer allowed their rope to go slack over the fire, they would risk singeing it, which could be dangerous.

The last verse of the skin dance song was sung faster and faster. Any dancer who could not keep up must pull away. At the far side of the fire, they would have to jump back, ripping the stitch bark through their skin. They could not afford to trip or stumble, or the dancer coming up behind might bump into them and fall as well.

Most of the younger dancers, including Emmie, pulled out as the dance speeded up. The last verse was just ending when Emmie came to rejoin Willow. She was pale and sweating, and out of breath.

"It's so... so good, Willow," she said between gasps. "You must join in the next one."

Willow was already looking back towards the dance pole. She saw Flax cut himself free with the knife from his belt. He then passed the knife to Dew. When she was free, Dew passed it on to Rock, who passed it to Hest. No one else had remained until the end of the dance.

Rock soon came to sit down beside Willow. As they both accepted a drink of Hest's cider, she studied his chest more closely. There were definately several short, long-healed scars. Blood from his recent piercing decorated his skin, but she could see that the wound was already sealing itself, thanks to the healing properties of stitchbark.

"You've done skin dances before," she accused him.

"A few, yes," he answered, slowly. "They're not unique to the hill villages, you know."

Emmie bounced up and down on the fur, spilling cider. "Where, Rock?" she cried. "Why don't you tell us about where you came from?"

"Because it's none of your business," he answered calmly.

After that, Emmie fell silent. This made Hest laugh loudly and thump his hand on the ground. "You've shut her up," he said. "Amazing!"

Blood marked Hest's chest in a rippling pattern, and sweat glistened on his shoulders. It was traditional not to wash off the blood from a skin dance before sunrise. Willow was caught by a sudden memory of Yenna, long ago, explaining in her dry voice, _'Skin dancing is good for young'uns. All that gore reminds 'em they're only flesh and blood, and no better than rocks and plants and animals.'_

Trying to ignore the pain of missing Yenna, Willow asked Hest, "How much does it hurt to have the piercing?"

"A lot," he replied, giving a shrug, as though to indicate it was not that important. "But it hurts even more, now. When Flax did it, I tried to think of something else. Actually, I practised water reading. I think there's more rain on the way."

"I concentrated on looking at the twins," Emmie said, seeming to have recovered her enthusiasm again. "I couldn't decide whether I like Rune, with his ponytail, best. Or Jem, with his curls. I hardly felt the knifegrass cut at all."

Then she shot Willow an odd, sly look. "It really hurts now, though," she added. "I've got just the thing in my pocket."

Emmie reached into the pocket among the folds of her skirt. She pulled out an unlabelled paper packet.

"Is that one of Wolf's?" Willow asked, suspiciously.

"From his special box. One of the best!" Emmie answered, laughing.

"It's dusk, isn't it?" said Hest, looking at it.

Rock sighed.

"Oh," Emmie snapped, turning to face Rock, "and I suppose you've tried it, have you?"

"It's just not worth the price," he replied, not fully answering the question.

"I didn't have to pay for it," Emmie said. "Wolf gave it to me. For nothing."

Unwrapping the packet, Emmie took a small pinch of the brown powder inside, which she dropped into the palm of her pierced hand. Then she poured a drop of cider on the powder. Using one finger, she stirred the mixture into a paste. Lifting her hand to her mouth, she licked it all up.

"Yum," she said, staring at Willow, defiantly. "Anyone else want to try some?"

"You want to be careful what you mix it with," Rock warned. "With some things, it goes poisonous."

Emmie turned her back to him.

Over by the pole, Flax was already calling for the next dance. Remembering how Wolf disapproved of skin dancing, Willow suddenly decided to join in, this time. When she got up to begin walking towards the pole, Emmie followed her. So did Rock and Hest.

Despite her annoyance, Willow was interested to know what effect the dusk had on Emmie. As they waited their turn to be pierced, she asked, "Well, what does dusk feel like?"

"It takes a while before you feel anything except a sore tongue," Emmie replied, "Then you feel lighter and softer, and everything looks cleaner. If you'd try it, you'd find out."

"You've taken it before? How often?"

"Only once," Emmie replied. "After you and Hest left Druse's porch when Wolf was talking, which was very rude of you, actually. Wolf gave everyone a little packet of the powder from his special box."

Willow blinked, and repeated slowly, "Wolf gave a packet of dusk each to you and Trasket, and Druse, and to Anna? He gave a packet to everyone who was there, and they all took it?"

"It's just a little ceremony, to show the Harvesters are generous. It's only like offering visitors to your cottage a cup of redberry tea."

Willow had now reached the front of the queue. Nervously, she held a hand out to Flax for piercing. He was quick, but the pain of the knifegrass stab was shocking. The sensation as the stitchbark pulled through the wound was revolting. Willow could feel cold sweat on her forehead. She blinked hard, trying to clear a dizziness from behind her eyes.

Looking right at her, Flax winked. "Druse turned up here this afternoon," he said. "She begged me to cancel this dance. Apparently, Wolf thinks it's too dangerous."

Willow's dizziness instantly disappeared. Turning to Emmie, she thought her friend now had a very dreamy look on her face.

"Where's Trasket?" Willow asked, sharply. "Emmie, why are you even here, if Wolf doesn't approve of the dance?"

Emmie only smiled. Holding out her unpierced hand to Flax and giggling, she then said, "I'll have two matching scars. Actually, Willow, I'm here because my friends are here. I'm here because _you're_ here. It may surprise you to know that I can think for myself. I don't agree with everything Wolf says, even if Druse does."

When knifegrass bit into Emmie's flesh, she gave no sign of having felt it. "And it's a good job the dusk is starting to work," Emmie went on. "Otherwise I might be very angry with you, Willow. I thought you were my best friend."

They now stood in the circle of dancers. Using their free hands to cradle their newly pierced ones, palm up, they let the ropes hang slack until the dance began. Meanwhile, Hest and Rock each received a second chest piercing.

As each new dancer was attached to a rope, the others had to shuffle around to make room. Soon Willow was uncomfortably close to the fire, and the heat stung her cheeks. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, and rubbed her bare toes in the dusty grass.

Looking up, she could see the patterns of dark treetops moving against the moonlit sky. The fire crackled and spat as someone fed it dry wood. At last, the skin dance began.

It was even harder than Willow had imagined. She had to move in time with the song, without knocking into Nipper, who was in front of her, or Emmie, who was behind. Holding her pierced hand out, with her arm braced to keep the rope taut, Willow tried to remember to sing, as well. Her shoulders soon grew hot with a pain that was almost worse than her wounded hand.

By the second verse, her feet had begun to move of their own accord. She had become used to adjusting her steps to small unevennesses in the ground, and small changes in Nipper's speed. She was able to look at her pierced hand as she danced. As she passed furthest from the fire, her palm filled briefly with moonlight.

The last verse of the skin dance song began. Behind Willow, Emmie suddenly pulled away, dodging out of the dance. Her loose rope swung back in towards the pole.

Willow realised that she was approaching the fire, and she did not feel strong enough to keep dancing past it. Quickly bracing her arm, which trembled with the effort, she ran backwards out of the dancing circle. Terrified of crashing into Nipper, she saw him race on past, just as the song gained pace again.

It was not until Willow had got well away from the dancing circle, that she started to notice how badly her hand now stung. There was a tear in her skin where the stitchbark had ripped out.

Almost everyone who had already danced, chose to sit and rest during the third skin dance. Only Nipper insisted he was fit enough to do three dances in a row. Flax clapped and sang from beside the fire. Rock and Hest, who had managed to see the second dance right through to the end, now lay flat on their backs. They both had little streams of blood glistening and slowly congealing on their chests.

Willow sat with them on the fur, sipping cider and trying to massage her own aching shoulders with the hand that was not throbbing and burning. She watched Emmie, who had gone off with her packet of dusk and was offering it around. She was working her way steadily towards Rune and Jem.

FIFTEEN

Willow decided not to waste her time worrying about dusk. Sooner or later, she thought, Wolf's gifts would run out, and the elders were not likely to send coin to the city to pay for any more. She could see Emmie chatting to Rune and showing him her skin dance wounds in the firelight. Hest and Rock were silent with exhaustion, except for occasional moans when they moved and their cut skin pulled.

Willow let her awareness slip out to the grass and trees of the Grove, and all the many other plants mixed among them. She found that they recognised the patterns in the music and dancing. The plants seemed to interpret the dancers' self-inflicted pain as self-confidence. And the dance patterns as a kind of shout, which the plants enjoyed.

Suddenly. Willow was distracted from tree speaking. There was a cry of dismay from several people at once, all at the firewards side of the circle of dancers. Standing up to look, Willow saw that Nipper had tripped. He must have tangled with Allie, who had been coming up behind him. Both of their ropes had sagged over the fire, burning right through.

Allie had been pierced in her upper arm. As far as Willow could tell, she was not hurt, but half a rope still dragged along behind her as she crouched beside Nipper. He was doubled over, and the half of his rope no longer attached to the pole lay beside him on the ground. Willow guessed the stitchbark must have ripped out awkwardly as he fell.

Remembering her duties as a healer, she quickly made her way to the fireside. As she approached, Allie dragged Nipper out of the dancing circle. The dance had not stopped, so she had to take him in between two other dancers, who adjusted their steps and kept going.

During the last verse, Willow, Allie and Flax all examined Nipper's chest. As Nipper's rope had tangled with Allie's, it must have caught in his dance wound, pulling it about. There was a fist-sized area of raw, bleeding flesh on his chest. He began to howl in pain.

In spite of the noise he was making, Willow thought he would heal quickly and easily. Just as long as she cleaned the wound and bound the jagged edges of torn skin together.

"You're stupider than a marsh toad, Nipper," said Flax, unsympathetically. "Your legs gave way, didn't they? No one can do three skin dances in a row."

Then Flax looked out into the Grove. "Boars' balls!" he shouted, obviously having seen something out there. "That's all we need!"

Following his gaze, Willow saw that Druse was now advancing towards them out of the darkness of the trees. Even worse, she was being followed by Wolf and Trasket. At that moment, Willow remembered that she had not brought any tree speakers' supplies with her. She could easily find leaves and bark in the Grove for cleaning and binding Nipper's wound. But not before Druse could reach him.

Druse soon bustled over, frowning at the sight of Nipper's chest. Nipper tried to struggle to his feet.

"I'm fine, really," he tried to insist. "I'll ask Flower to look at it in the morning, but I'm sure it's all right."

Druse pushed him down again, saying, "You'll stay right there, boy. I've brought supplies. I _knew_ something like this would happen."

She then waved Trasket forward. He was carrying a leather pack. Wolf stood behind them both. He did not speak.

Willow had noticed that many bloodied dancers were already quietly slipping away, into the dark of the trees. Those who stayed began to form themselves into a group behind Flax. Glancing at Trasket, Willow thought he looked very uncomfortable.

Ignoring them all, Druse unpacked medicines and bandages. She then cleaned and bound Nipper's chest, despite his angry protests. Willow looked on, but dared not object. She winced as Druse rubbed at the wound with a cloth drenched in something poured from a bottle. It must have hurt a lot.

When Druse appeared to be done, she stepped aside so Wolf could come forward. Then, straightening his back and lifting his chin, Wolf spoke out to the hostile audience of youngsters.

"Skin dancing and drumming are barbaric practices," he began. "In fact, some intelligent people have suggested they are behaviours copied from the Green, who are animals. You young people represent the future of your village. You should be looking forward, and thinking of ways to earn coin to improve your lives, like young Trasket, here."

Searching for Emmie in the crowd behind Flax, Willow was sickened to note a hint of pride in her friend's expression.

"That's enough!" Flax shouted back at Wolf.

There were more shouts from behind Flax, who stepped around Trasket, Druse and Nipper, until he was right up close to Wolf. Flax was tall enough to look down on the Harvester. His skin glistened with sweat and his bare chest was decorated with dried blood. His long fair hair hung down his back in thick waves.

"The Green are people," Flax said.

"No," Wolf responded. Although he had to look up at Flax, he did not seem afraid. His own thin grey hair and beard waved about as he shook his head emphatically. He repeated, "No. The Green are animals, and we have to leave them behind. What you are doing is dangerous. It unbalances things."

"Tell us exactly how it does that, then!" Hest shouted out.

Willow did not expect the Harvester to be able to answer that. But Wolf continued to talk calmly. "There are patterns, connections, between living things," he replied. "The Green know them and use them, but it's a very dangerous thing to do, because it causes disturbances, with unpredictable effects."

"Of course there are connections!" Hest sounded as angry as Willow had ever known him. "That's how the talents work!"

But Wolf did not seem at all intimidated. "The talents don't work," he said. "You only think they do. But they can unbalance things. That's why they must be discouraged. Our ways are safer."

Rock suddenly called out, "Rats!"

Immediately, other voices joined in. Soon, a great many youngsters were all shouting, "Rats, Rats, Rats, Rats!" and advancing threateningly towards Wolf.

Willow did not shout, but she did glare aggressively at Druse. Having already collected up her supplies, Druse seemed to be preparing to retreat.

"I'd leave now, if I were you," said Flax. Willow then saw him turn lazily to view the group of youngsters at his back.

Wolf turned to walk away, closely followed by Druse and Trasket. But, before the three of them were out of sight, Wolf paused to call back over his shoulder, "You've caused trouble with this dance! Bad things will follow, you'll see!"

Those remaining in the grove began to tidy up. When the fire was out, the slackvine ropes were twisted neatly at the base of the dance pole. At last, after the moon had set, everyone made their way home. Emmie came with Willow, Rock and Hest, to sleep on the floor of Nettle's barn. She said she did not to want to disturb her family by creeping in so late. Willow guessed that she also wanted to avoid the fight that was bound to happen when Trasket told his parents he was going to the Spice City.

"What did Wolf mean?" Emmie asked, as they tried to settle their aching bodies on piles of furs, "about the skin dance causing bad things?"

"He meant that the next bad thing that happens for no reason at all will be blamed on us," answered Rock, grimly.

"Or the next bad thing caused by the Harvesters," added Hest, in the dark. "They caused the flood, you know. I've worked it out. The storm was over the Forest before it reached Warner. The rain fell on the part the Harvesters have already cleared, and there were no plants to drink all the water. The ground was dry and hard, so all the water could do was rush downhill until it found valleys to run into. One of the valleys was ours."

Willow lay awake in the dark for a long time, listening to Rock and Hest softly snoring. Emmie stirred beside her. Willow felt Emmie's fingers reach for her own, but then withdraw.

"Ouch, sorry," Emmie whispered, "my hands are both too sore."

In the morning, as Willow looked on, Emmie pulled her packet of dusk from her pocket and opened it carefully. She tapped the paper to shake all the powder to one end, then gently tore the paper packet in half. Tipping some of the powder into the empty half, she folded both packets, giving one to Willow.

"We're still best friends," she said. "Let's share."

"Emmie, I can't..." Willow began.

"Just keep it until you want it," Emmie said.

Willow sighed, resignedly. She tucked the packet into her belt, inside her knife sheath.

After cleaning and binding her hand, Willow then decided to call at the mill, even though she had still had no invitation. Rock went ahead to the Healers' Cottages to see to the goats and hens.

Frost greeted Willow nervously. He looked as if he had hardly slept.

Willow tried to seem lighthearted. "You haven't been skin dancing, too, have you?" she asked.

Frost did not even smile. "The baby's not well," he said. "I wish you'd come sooner, Willow, but I suppose Anna wouldn't have liked it anyway."

Willow followed him into the kitchen of the mill-house. Anna jumped up from the rocking chair as Frost came in, but sat down again, dejectedly, when she saw that their visitor was Willow.

Willow glared at her. "You were expecting Druse, weren't you?" she said. "Well, she had a late night. Maybe she's still sleeping. May I look at my sister?"

Anna waved, vaguely, in the direction of the cot, and sighed. Willow stepped towards it, took one look at the baby and hurried to work. She lifted the child up, grabbed a blanket to tuck around her, and sat in the nearest chair. The baby's skin was cool and clammy, and the soft spot on her forehead was shrunken in.

Willow snapped questions at Anna. "When did she last feed? Is she having anything except your milk? Does she have diarrhoea? Has she been sick a lot?"

Willow took it as measure of Anna's concern that she was willing to answer at all. "She's had sickness and diarrhoea, on and off, for the past moon or so. Druse said not to worry. We gave her Wolf's medicine. It helps, but she doesn't seem to want to feed."

Another question occurred to Willow, but she did not have the courage to ask if Anna had been taking dusk. Anyway, she had no idea whether it would harm a baby through its mother's milk.

"Frost," Willow said, briskly, instead, "get goat's milk from Nonnie and some salt and boiled honey from Jesty and Old Weary. Hurry!"

When Frost had gone, Willow told Anna to boil water, which Willow spooned into the baby's mouth as soon as it had cooled.

"She's dried out," she explained to Anna. "She hasn't fed enough, and she's been losing water because she's been ill. You must feed her tiny spoonfuls of boiled water, and when Frost comes back you can mix some goat's milk and honey, and a dust of salt, into it. Even if she doesn't want to feed, you must get liquid into her."

The baby wriggled listlessly in Willow's arms, crying feebly.

Anna held out her arms. "I'll take her Willow," she said. "I'll do what you say, I promise. Only, I'd rather Druse didn't know you'd helped. It's... well, you know, it's complicated."

Willow thought she did know. Anna was afraid Druse would try to talk her out of following Willow's instructions. Anna could not stand up to Druse any more than Frost could stand up to Anna. Silently wishing her sleeping sister farewell, Willow left the mill. As she walked up to the Healers' Cottages in the noon heat, she wondered why people could not work out what they believed in and stick with it. Then she realised that Wolf did exactly that.

Two days later, Willow walked down to the village to take a letter to Minty's. She knew that Minty had already found a traveller to carry a letter from the elders to the marsh villages. But she had written her own plea to Rinnet to come home soon.

Minty was unusually solemn as he took Willow's letter. When she mentioned that she wanted to call at the mill before going home, he looked tearful.

"You haven't heard yet then? The mill's empty, Willow. Anna's baby died yesterday morning. Anna's staying with Druse, and Frost's gone."

SIXTEEN

Willow stared at Minty, trying to accept what he had just said.

Eventually, he placed his big hands on her shoulders, repeating, gently, "The baby died. I'm sorry. It's harsh when it's such a little'un, but sometimes it happens. It's nobody's fault. Do you hear me, Willow? It's nobody's fault."

"She was my sister." Willow spoke very quietly, still feeling dazed. "Where's Frost? I need to talk to him."

Minty could not tell her. All he could say was that Frost had gone. No one knew where.

"Typical," Willow almost growled. Her anger was growing, furiously. "That's just like Frost to run away. And leave the rest of us to cope alone. Poor Anna."

Minty steered her to a chair and sat her down. "Rest yourself there for a short while," he said. "You've had a bad shock. Don't think about going anywhere before I get back."

Leaving her there, Minty then went out. All the time he was gone, Willow sat staring at the wooden tabletop in front of her, wondering what had happened in the mill-house during the past two days. She was well aware that even if she had cared for the baby herself, from dusk to dawn and dawn to dusk, it might not have been enough. Yenna had known the child was fragile, right from the start. And sometimes young things just did not survive. All tree speakers understood that.

But how hard had Frost and Anna tried? Had they known what to do? Should Willow have stayed with them? Folding her arms on the tabletop, she let her head fall forward. Tears soon began to stream from her stinging eyes.

When Minty returned, Old Jesty came with him. The two men sat themselves either side of Willow, each patting one of her shoulders as they tried to console her.

"Now then, girl, that's enough of that," Old Jesty said firmly. "And don't you go thinking you're all alone, now. Rinnet will come back. Frost'll probably come back, too, when he's sorted himself out."

Willow made an effort to lift her head and wipe her eyes. She wanted to tell Old Jesty about her fears.

Before she could speak, he went on, "I know just what you're thinking. You can't decide whether to be angry at Frost and Anna for not caring for your sister properly, or at yourself for not taking over. I know you went to try and help, because Frost told me. I also know what Yenna said to me, soon after that child was born. She knew the baby was not as healthy as she should have been. And Yenna thought it was kindest to warn Anna what she might be facing, just in case. That's why they waited on the naming."

Willow found herself wondering if a spring-born baby who was not named until after longest days, was a one-summer baby, or a no-summer baby. Although, for her sister, it no longer mattered.

"Anna was taking dusk at the same time as she was breast-feeding my sister," Willow said, abruptly.

At that, Old Jesty sucked in a loud breath through his teeth. "That, I didn't know," he responded. "But it's not for you to worry about, Willow. You've suffered enough. Don't add kindling to a red hot fire."

"I want to see my sister," Willow said next. She wanted to say goodbye to her sister face to face, as she had not been able to with Yenna.

Then Minty explained that Anna had buried her child in the Grove last evening.

"It wasn't right, not to let you know. That was badly done," he said. "In fact, I thought of coming to tell you the news myself, this morning. But when you turned up here, I thought you must have heard already."

Old Jesty nodded his grey head. "Young Hest is on his way to the Healers' Cottages, right now. I passed him on his way, before Minty told me you were here. Yesterday, it was a while before anyone knew that Frost was gone and that Anna hadn't sent for you, Willow. I can take you to the tree where she buried the child."

Willow suddenly knew what she wanted to do.

"I'd like to do a drumming there," she said. "With you and Flax, and Hest and Rock. And Emmie. And Dew, too, if she'd come. It would be a way of saying goodbye."

Old Jesty looked uncomfortable. "I don't know if that's a good idea," he replied. "Anna might take it badly."

"Anna didn't give me a chance to say goodbye to my own sister!" Willow cried out, fiercely. " _Please_ help me Jesty. She was my sister and I loved her."

She began to cry again, helplessly. At last, Old Jesty agreed to do his best to organise a drumming.

Some time later, Willow returned to the Healers' Cottages. Hest was still there, with Rock. The two of them accompanied Willow back to the village that evening, meeting with Old Jesty, Flax and Dew, at Nettle's barn. Old Jesty explained that Emmie was caring for Dillie, who was sick with a summer cold. Nesta was apparently very busy, so Emmie had to stay at their cottage.

The six drummers made their way quietly to the Grove. Rich evening sunlight patterned the ground beneath the trees. Old Jesty led the way to a vigorous young beech tree, pointing to the little mound of freshly disturbed soil at its foot.

Willow took a moment to greet the tree, telling it who the tiny body amongst its roots had belonged to. Then she sat cross-legged beside the grave and waited for the others to sit with her.

It seemed appropriate to drum very softly and quietly in memory of a baby. Willow led, determinedly forcing her unpractised muscles to beat in time. The others joined in, without speaking.

The drumming was short and restful. When it was finished, Willow laid her palms flat on her drum, listening to the calls of birds and the humming of insects amongst the trees.

She looked at Old Jesty, who nodded. "A fine goodbye," he said.

When Old Jesty eased himself to his feet, the others soon followed.

Dew put a hand on Willow's shoulder. "Good drumming," she said.

Hest gave Willow an encouraging smile. Flax dipped his head towards her, approvingly.

She saw that Rock was looking away into the trees. "Trouble's coming!" he warned.

Old Jesty immediately pointed to a track leading off in the opposite direction to Rock's gaze. "This way," ordered the old man.

But it was already too late. There was a loud shout, and Wolf came running at them through the trees, waving his arms about. Miserably, Willow stood ready to face him. But Old Jesty stepped in front of her.

"I heard you!" Wolf cried. "You thought you could do it so quiet no one would notice, but I heard you! That delinquent..." He pointed at Flax. "...has stirred up forces he can't control. A child has died! And you desecrate its grave by adding even more disturbance! What are you trying to do?" Wolf's face was red with effort, and his waving hands were shaking.

Old Jesty remained very still. "Just what are _you_ saying Wolf?" he replied, slowly. "Are you suggesting that Anna's baby died because of something young Flax did?"

"He ran a skin dance! I warned him it was dangerous! I told him bad things would follow!" shouted Wolf.

Silently, Willow began crying, again.

"Dung eater! Sow's teat biter! Rat's food!" Dew yelled furiously at Wolf.

Then Rock spoke, coldly, and clearly. "I've heard tales of Harvesters chased out of villages. People don't like them turning up and telling lies," he said.

After that, Old Jesty simply turned his back on Wolf. Apparently speaking to no one in particular, he said, "Willow has said goodbye to her sister in the old way. I should think the elders will be having a meeting soon. It might be time for Wolf to move on."

Then Old Jesty led the way back to the village by the longer route, through the thicker parts of the Grove. The other five drummers trailed behind him, but Wolf did not follow.

As Willow and Rock left the village to head home, Old Jesty patted Rock heartily on the shoulder. "Don't worry, boy," the old man said. "No Harvester's going to put an end to talent in Warner. So, you just keep practising what I've taught you. You'll make a fine animal talker."

At that moment, Willow was much too tired and sad to ask Rock to say more about his talent. However, she did wonder what he would do, and where he would go, once he had learned all he could from Old Jesty.

Back at the Healers' Cottages, she could not let go of the thought that the dusk Anna was taking might have hurt the baby. She told some of her worries to Rock, but he refused to agree. He even accused her of thinking like Wolf, trying to invent reasons for something that happened by chance.

"Let's just concentrate on keeping these two cottages and gardens clean and neat and full of food," Rock said, "ready for when Rinnet comes back."

"You don't understand," Willow insisted, sadly. "The baby was my sister, and I'm a tree speaker. Until Rinnet comes back, I'm the only tree speaker in Warner. It was my responsibility. I just want to find out."

Several nights after the drumming, when she was alone in Rinnet's cottage, Willow picked up the little packet of dusk that Emmie had given her. It had been lying in a corner of the herb cupboard, where she had shoved it behind Rinnet's notebook. Pulling up a chair, and laying the dusk on the table, she sat staring at the packet for a long time.

Then, cautiously opening the paper, she laid one finger on the fine brown powder inside. She tried to _listen_ to the dusk. It turned out not to be dead, like Wolf's medicines. The dusk was vibrantly alive. It startled her at first. Her finger jerked and spilled powder across the table.

With meticulous concentration, Willow then learned from dusk about its own properties.

Early the next day, she followed Rock around Yenna's garden as he saw to the goats and fetched water.

"It's enormously powerful," she told him, explaining excitedly what she had found out. "That's why it's dangerous. It can make people relaxed. It can slow them down, and it can make them sleepy. It enjoys doing it, because it likes to feel its power, but it doesn't mean to do any harm."

"It's a bully, then, like Dream here," said Rock. He was shutting the gate to the pen, before Dream could knock the milk bucket from his hand. Dream stuck her nose through the wooden slats in the fence, and he scratched her coarse fur with his free hand.

"I suppose," Willow agreed. "But it can't do anything at all unless people choose to take it."

"So, did you find the answer to your question about Anna?" Rock asked seriously. They had returned to Yenna's cottage, where he went to put the milk bucket on the cool floor of the larder.

"No, not really." Willow sighed. "It doesn't consider itself poisonous to babies, although it wouldn't call itself a children's herb either."

"There you are then," said Rock. "I've told you, you should stop worrying. The baby dying was a sad accident. Now, if you don't mind, I need to be alone. I have to go to the privy."

Willow had not told Rock about several other things she had learned from dusk. In particular, she had not mentioned that dusk could make people so relaxed that, sometimes, they then became unusually honest. She had no thoughts of trying to make Rock give up secrets against his will, but she still feared the very idea might make him uncomfortable.

The little dusk packet was now hidden safely away at the back of the herb cupboard, next to a pouch of nightsheart, another powerful pain-killing herb.

SEVENTEEN

Flax came to the Healers' Cottages late one evening. Willow was seated on Yenna's doorstep at the time, stripping redberries from their stems. Rock was spreading the berries on drying trays. The trays would be laid out in the sun the following morning.

"I'm going to go away," Flax explained. "I hoped you could give me a pouch of wayfarer's bark to take in my pack. I need to walk a fair way, and I'll want something stronger than redberry in my tea. Next time you're in the village, go in Nitta's cottage and take anything you like in payment. I won't be coming back. I'm going on up into the hills to look for Guern. There's no life for me here anymore."

"You mean you're running away," Rock accused him. "That Harvester has got to you."

"If you want," Flax replied, irritably. "And I'd be grateful if you'd not tell anyone else where I'm going. Some of the villagers are blaming me for the baby's death. I've had enough of it, and I've got no reason to stay."

"It's time for the elders to chase Wolf out of the village," Willow said, angrily.

"They can't," answered Flax. "Too many villagers agree with him. Too many people want to believe the rubbish he's talking. It makes them feel better. And the elders can't risk doing something a lot of villagers disagree with. If people start to deliberately disobey the elders, the whole village falls apart."

So where _is_ Guern?" Willow asked him.

"I don't know," Flax admitted. "But I know he went looking for our father. Nobody knows that except me. Guern just disappeared one day, but he spoke to me before he went, just like I'm speaking to you now."

" _Is_ your father half-Green?" Rock asked.

"More like a quarter, maybe less. But he knew things the Green know. They're real, and they're people. Their hair looks green because there's a kind of forest plant that grows on it – like the green on the sunny side of tree trunks. Our father taught what he knew to Guern, before he went away. Guern did his best to teach me. Did you know that the Green are all master drummers, and they do the skin dance? They use dusk, too, but not like the Harvesters do."

Flax sighed, mournfully. After a long pause, he went on. "Another thing my father taught Guern, and Guern taught me, was that, sometimes, there's no shame in running away. Sometimes it's all you've got left."

There seemed no reason to argue. Willow fetched him a pouch of wayfarer's bark from Rinnet's herb cupboard.

Later, when Flax had gone, she watched Rock carry the trays of redberries to Yenna's larder for the night. She wondered what it was that Rock had been running from, before he had ended up in Warner.

That night, she was restless. It felt as though there was a storm on the way. Rain would spoil the drying redberries. Willow refused to allow herself to consider the chance of another flood. But she could not go to bed, even though no storm ever came. Eventually, she rummaged in the herb cupboard, and brought out the nightsheart and the dusk.

Sitting at the table, she placed the two of them in her lap. Both were calming herbs. She unfolded the dusk packet and eased open the neck of the pouch of nightsheart. Idly, she tried to tree speak with both of them at the same time.

She could feel echoes of the effect they would have if she were to eat them. They were dreamy and slow. Willow thought that being poisoned by the pair of them would probably be quite pleasant. They began to make her feel relaxed, even without tasting them. She felt able to let them see her worries. Then her worries began to seem less important.

The two plants could work together, Willow soon realised. Each was making the other stronger. If she had eaten them, Willow thought she would want to keep eating more, every time the effect wore off. It was so beguiling.

Willow did not notice she was falling asleep until she suddenly came properly awake. The plants had said something that made her instantly straighten up and open her eyes. Their suggestion had shocked her.

"Oh, well," she said out loud, to herself, "that would solve a lot of things."

The following morning, she felt very cheerful.

The sky was overcast and the sun was not hot enough to dry the redberries. So Rock built up a fire to dry them indoors. It would leave them tasting smoky and less sweet. But Willow hardly cared.

"I feel like going to the village to see Emmie. Do you want to come?" she asked Rock.

"I'd better watch the berries hadn't I?" he answered. "What are you up to? You've got a wicked shine to your eyes."

"You'll see," said Willow, happily. Then she set off for the village alone.

Emmie was with Nesta, at the back of their cottage. They were rinsing clothes in a wooden barrel, beside the well.

"I'm glad to see you again, Willow," said Nesta, good-naturedly. "All right, Emmie, you can go off with Willow. I can manage, I expect. We can only wash the things most badly needing it, anyway. I daren't waste any water."

So then, Willow and Emmie went to sit on the cart bridge and swing their feet out over the side. The river, that had so recently run high enough to sweep Nitta off the bridge, now flowed sluggishly below them.

"Well," Emmie said, "you're looking bright."

"I slept well," Willow replied. "For the first time since the flood."

"The river's gone down an awful lot," Emmie said. "Henty's been out in his boat checking the banks, and fishing. He caught a spike fish and brought it back to scare Hest with."

Willow laughed, but said, "That wasn't very nice. So what do you think about Hest's talent?"

"Well," Emmie answered, slowly, "I'd never even heard of a water reader before this summer. And you've got to admit, it's a bit of a coincidence that Hest discovered he is one, just after Nettle had an argument with a Harvester _and_ there was a sudden flood. But it's strange the way he makes water jugs spill over. Maybe he moves them with his foot or something, so quick I can't see."

"Do you think that Harvesters tell the truth?" Willow asked, next.

"What are you getting at?" Emmie looked across at her suspiciously. Pulling her feet up, she wrapped her arms around her knees.

"Nothing," Willow answered, giving a shrug as if it really did not matter. "It's just that, with everything that's happened lately, I've been learning that no one can be honest all the time, not even to themselves."

"You're thinking too hard," said Emmie. "It's always been your problem. Hest's just as bad. But thinking doesn't get the work done, and if the work's not done we could starve next winter. That's what Nesta always says. It used to annoy me, but I'm beginning to see what she means."

"What does Nesta think about dusk?" asked Willow, quickly.

Emmie blushed, but her voice was controlled. "She doesn't know I've got any, and you're not to tell her," she said.

"Is it still the same packet you're using, or does Wolf replace them when you run out?"

"Willow! I don't take it often. I haven't even used half of my packet yet. I think Wolf's only got the one box. Have you tried yours, yet?"

Willow smiled. "I haven't tasted it, no," she answered.

Getting to her feet, she continued, "I wonder how long Wolf'll stay here, once his box is empty. Will he be there today? I feel like listening to him speak again. As you say, perhaps I do too much thinking."

"Just after midday," Emmie answered, looking bewildered.

"Good. I'll be there," Willow announced. "I wonder if Hest would like to come too."

After that, Emmie returned home to help Nesta finish the washing. She promised to beg Nesta for some more time off in the afternoon.

Willow then searched out Hest, who was helping Nettle to oil the leather straps on the stone-hauling cart.

"Do you want to help me upset Wolf this afternoon?" she asked him.

"You go on, boy," Nettle said, with a chuckle. Then he turned straight back to his work, as if to say Hest was no longer needed there.

Before they left Nettle's barn, Willow shared a midday meal of dry bread with Hest. While they ate, she explained that she wanted him to distract Wolf's attention, later. So Willow could get to Wolf's box of dusk.

"Are you going to steal it?" Hest asked.

Willow poked him playfully in the chest, where she knew his skin dance scars would still be tender. "Just wait and see," she answered.

They joined Emmie on Druse's porch. Yet again, the three of them sat cross-legged at the front of the gathering. Willow did not look to see who was behind her. She did not want to catch sight of Anna. Otherwise, it hardly mattered who was there, as long as there were many of them.

Carefully ignoring the whisperings and mutterings of surprise and disapproval at their backs, Willow and Hest sat quietly and politely.

Even so, Emmie hissed at them under her breath, "Now you two behave, this time."

When Druse emerged from her cottage, she looked down in surprise at the two talented youngsters gazing up at her. But she welcomed them with apparent warmth. Then Wolf stepped out, with his dusk box and his mug, placing them both on the table by the door.

After taking one look at Willow and Hest, Wolf immediately returned to the dusk box and helped himself to a taste. Willow smiled up at him.

He glared at her. Then, looking across her head at the rest of his audience, he began to speak. Underneath the table where the dusk box rested, was the water jug. Willow turned to look at Hest, who winked at her.

"We welcome the youth Trasket," said Wolf.

Willow assumed that Trasket was somewhere in the audience, although Emmie had not mentioned it.

"This young man will soon journey to the Spice City, with my recommendations, to work hard in return for coin. His journey will benefit all the villagers of Warner. We hope that others will follow his example." Here, Wolf looked down at the three young'uns seated at his feet.

Willow glanced across at Emmie, who frowned.

As Wolf continued speaking, Hest nudged Willow with his knee. She looked over to the water jug. With a loud gurgling sound, water was already bubbling up over the lip of the jug. Wet splatters were spreading over the planks of the porch.

An instant before Wolf turned to see what the strange noise was, Willow and Hest leapt up together.

"We'll see to it!" Willow cried, moving towards the table.

Standing behind her, Hest busied himself with the jug. Meanwhile, Willow pulled her hand out from her skirt pocket. Opening Wolf's box with the other, she then slipped a sprinkling of new powder on top of the dusk that was already in there. Her own powder looked identical to that already in the box, but it was not dusk alone. It was a mixture of dusk and nightsheart.

Afterwards, Willow returned to her place beside Emmie. They continued to watch Hest at work. He seemed to be herding the water back into the jug with his hands. Once Hest had finished, he looked up, as though surprised to find everyone staring at him.

"It's nothing really," he said, giving a small shrug of his shoulders. "I've been practising. It's only a small jugful of water. I couldn't talk a whole bucketful into doing it."

The wooden planks were dry.

There were many exclamations and mutterings throughout Wolf's audience. Willow saw Wolf lick his lips.

Hest was now sitting beside her again. This time, it was her turn to give him a nudge with her elbow. Wolf had just gone over to his box for yet another pinch of dusk.

Then Wolf cleared his throat. But his audience were not paying attention. To Willow's delight, Wolf took another dose of dusk, and then another. It seemed to give him courage.

Finally, he bellowed, "Silence, please!"

At last, everyone else fell quiet.

"I don't know what trick this young man just performed," Wolf said, sternly, "but I can only assume that he was jealous of the attention Trasket is getting for his brave endeavour."

"Why brave?" Willow asked. She spoke quietly, but still loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Brave..." Wolf bellowed, and then paused. He seemed to be thinking. "Brave," he continued. "Of course it's a brave thing to go to a city, when you've grown up in a backward village like this one. A village full of ignorant fools who think they can communicate with other living things like the Green do... like..."

_More!_ Willow willed him, _Speak honestly, now. Tell us more._

But, suddenly, Wolf staggered and collapsed, holding both hands against his chest. Druse immediately rose from her seat and ran to him. She was followed by several others, who soon clustered around the fallen Harvester.

Too late, Willow heard Yenna's voice in her head, warning her about nightsheart. _'It can be very enthusiastic,'_ Yenna had said, the previous winter, _'Don't use too much. Sometimes, with very large doses, it can relax someone's heart so much that it forgets to beat, or it can make their lungs forget to breathe.'_

"What's happening, Willow?" asked Hest, sounding afraid.

Emmie just stared at them both, looking horrified.

Scrambling to her knees, Willow placed her hands on Hest's shoulders.

"If they ask, tell them the truth," she said. "It's my fault. Don't let them blame you. You didn't know."

Then she leapt from Druse's porch and ran away into the Grove.

EIGHTEEN

Willow had hidden herself deep in the Grove, far from any path. She crouched in thick leaf litter at the base of a stitchbark tree, hugging her arms around her knees. Nearby shrubs and brambles reached above the height of her head. Even if anyone came searching this far into the Grove, she would be invisible to them.

Afraid to _listen_ to the plants, Willow felt sure they would not forgive her for what she had done. The villagers would not forgive her, either.

_Stupid, stupid..._ she told herself, rocking forward and back until she fell onto her knees. How could she not have remembered the dangers of taking too much of a sedative plant? She had only wanted Wolf to relax enough to tell the truth. It had not even been certain he would say anything incriminating. Willow had only meant for the villagers on Druse's porch to find out what the man they had so easily trusted was really like. They were just supposed to see more clearly what they had been agreeing to.

If Willow had murdered a Harvester using a plant, her career as Warner's tree speaker was ended. And it would be proof that Wolf was right, and the talents were dangerous. _Stupid, stupid, stupid..._ Willow repeated to herself, over and over again. When her knees began to hurt, she shuffled around to sit among dry, dead leaves. The treetops and their understory of shrubs allowed only splinters of sunlight through to the ground.

Later, it began to get dark. The glow from the sinking sun met Willow at eye level. She decided to return to the Healers' Cottages. Otherwise, Rock might go down to the village looking for her. And if he did that, he would almost certainly hear from someone else about what she had done. It would be better to tell him the truth, herself.

Making her way towards the edge of the Grove, she carefully avoided Druse's cottage. That meant clambering through the mess of nettles and brambles which had grown up on a patch of cleared coppice. The nettles stung, and the brambles scratched, and tore her skirt. If Willow _talked_ to the plants, she might ask them to be more gentle. But, then again, they might choose not to listen to her, and she was afraid to risk that.

The route through the tangle of vegetation brought her around the village and onto the path to the Healers' Cottages. When Willow finally emerged from the woods to enter Yenna's garden, she was filthy and covered in scratches.

She found Rock indoors, setting a pan of beans to cook on the fire. He immediately asked who had hurt her. Quickly, before she could change her mind, Willow described what she had done, and what she had intended.

To her surprise, Rock did not seem angry with her. He sat down slowly in a chair.

"Great bulls' balls, Willow," he said. "I thought villages were quiet places where nothing happens."

"I'm not proud of it!" she snapped, thinking he had not been listening properly. "I didn't mean to kill him!"

"You don't know you did kill him," Rock answered, sensibly. "Tomorrow morning, I'll go to the village and find out. I'll talk to Hest and no one else. After that... then you can decide what to do."

"No," Willow replied, decisively. "I have to run away right now, before morning. Flax was right. Sometimes there's no other choice. I'll go further up into the hills. I'll become a traveller."

Rock sat back in his seat, looking at her silently. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, wondering what he was thinking.

"I tried that," he said, eventually. "It doesn't help, believe me. You'll need to talk to someone. Someone argumentative is good."

Willow's energy left her in a rush. Feeling defeated, she slumped into the other chair.

"I can't stay here," she insisted, sullenly. "I can't face anyone."

Rock sighed. "How's this then?" he asked. "Come with me to Goshi's. Stay with him for a while. He'll pretend he doesn't want you, but he's a lonely man, and he won't throw you out."

"He beat you," Willow said.

"And now he's been on his own again for long enough to regret it," Rock pointed out. "I don't think he'll try it again. No one will guess you'd go there, and Goshi won't tell."

"Tonight, then," Willow said, wondering how she would find the strength. At that moment she felt extremely weary. "Someone's bound to come up here looking for me in the morning. We'll have to tidy up the cottages tonight – leave them ready for Rinnet when she comes back."

Rock was looking at her closely again. She guessed he was wondering how she felt about leaving before Rinnet got back. The truth was, she wanted her mother desperately. But, at the same time, Willow could not bear to think of admitting to Rinnet what she had done.

This time, Rock did not argue. He helped Willow to douse the fires, sweep the floors, strip the beds and empty the water buckets, first in Yenna's cottage, then in Rinnet's. Clearing the larders of any food that would not store well, they packed as much as they could carry. Anything else got thrown into the woods for the animals and birds.

They filled large packs with clothes and food and blankets. Willow could not help also packing some herbs and her notebook. Though she had no right to consider herself a tree speaker, anymore.

Rock opened the goat pen and the chicken coop. "I've told the hens to roost in the trees," he said, "and the goats to make their way to the village in the morning. They're good milkers. Someone there will look after them. The hens may be long gone by the time Rinnet gets back, though. Are you certain you want to do this, Willow?"

"Yes," she replied. "But you don't have to come with me. The villagers don't hate you. Don't you want to carry on learning with Old Jesty?"

"I made a promise to Yenna," he answered, slowly. "After I'd been with her for one moon, she told me that if I wanted to stay any longer, I had to promise not to leave until Rinnet came back. Things didn't really turn out the way she was hoping, did they? If she was here now, I think she would rather I looked after her granddaughter than her house."

Miserably, Willow found herself thinking that she would never have got into this mess if Yenna were still alive.

"Also," Rock added, "I don't want to be here when villagers arrive to ask questions."

So then, both Willow and Rock left the Healers' Cottages in the middle of the night.

"Why don't you talk to the garden plants before we go?" Rock asked, as they crossed Yenna's garden. "Tell them not to mind if they don't get weeded for a while."

"I can't tree speak anymore," Willow answered, with no further explanation.

"Please yourself." Rock did not ask any more questions, for which she was grateful.

They did not take even a small lantern with them, for fear of being seen. So it was a slow and treacherous journey down the hill. They crept silently through the village, across the cart bridge, and wearily up Screed Hill.

The following morning, Willow opened her eyes to find Goshi staring at her, looking horrified.

"What the spit and bum sweat are you two doing on my back doorstep?" the old man cried. "Camping?"

As Willow blinked speechlessly at Goshi, Rock stirred inside his blanket.

"Morning old man," he greeted Goshi. "Good to see you again. We've come to make you breakfast."

"Well you can go away again," Goshi said, unsmiling.

"Now, don't be unkind," Rock continued, getting slowly to his feet. "You won't have heard the news yet. But Willow, here, thinks she's killed a Harvester. I'm not so sure, myself – they're pretty tough – but I knew you'd be delighted, so we've come to tell you all about it, over breakfast."

Goshi stared from Rock to Willow, and back again. Willow unwrapped herself from her own blanket.

"All right," Goshi finally agreed. "You'd better come in." He shambled indoors ahead of them, muttering to himself, "It was a bad thing, Yenna going like that. I could tolerate that old girl."

Rock went straight to the larder in search of fresh food. Meanwhile, Willow haltingly explained her story to Goshi. She was too tired and bewildered to be much afraid of the old man. In any case, he did not respond in his usual threatening manner. Instead, Goshi seemed to listen carefully, sometimes prompting Willow with questions.

When she had finished, Goshi chuckled to himself.

"It was quite a good plan, girl," he said. I'd have paid coin to hear what the Harvester said if you'd really got him to speak the truth. You want to hide out here, I suppose. Well, no one's going to find you in the old fool Goshi's house, are they? I'd say you haven't got much choice."

"I'm going away," Willow told him, firmly. "But... could we stay here for a few days first? While I decide where to go?"

"You'll have to sleep on the floor by the fireplace," Goshi warned, his fierce manner returning. "Nobody except me goes upstairs, ever!"

"No problem," said Rock, who had just come back carrying plates of food. "And nobody even asks what you've got up there. I remember."

Willow and Rock both passed the next few days living Goshi's way. Housework was done only when absolutely essential. Bread was baked if the crusts in the larder were stale and mouldy. Mugs and plates were cleaned only when all the others were dirty. The fire was lit and tended to bake bread, or brew tea, but otherwise ignored. The ashes were cleared only when the fireplace was so choked the fire would not light, otherwise.

They ate when they were hungry, and slept when they were tired. Rock and Willow slept in piles of blankets, in a space on the floor by the hearth. Goshi slept upstairs, and rarely got up much before noon. There were no visitors from the village, and therefore no news. Willow began to relax. It seemed that no one was coming after her. Or that no one knew where she was. Goshi delighted in snarling at Willow when she was not expecting it, always making her flinch. But, otherwise, life on Screed Hill was quite peaceful. Since Goshi made no effort to be kind or pleasant, Willow felt no duty to be polite or considerate. Or nice in any way. It suited her mood perfectly.

One evening, she and Rock lazed on Goshi's back doorstep enjoying mugs of ale in the fresh air. All of a sudden, they were startled by a call coming from the scrubby bushes on the hill above. Willow froze with her ale mug lifted half way to her mouth. Then, realising it could not be anyone from the village, which was below them, she forced herself to relax. The call was repeated.

"It's Rummy the Trail," she whispered, with relief.

She and Rock slipped quietly indoors to find Goshi.

"Ah," the old man said. "Rummy can keep a secret, but you can hide in the larder if you like. He won't stay long, and he always comes round to the front door. He'll want to get to Minty's before dark, but he always calls here on his way. To bring me the news-sheets from the city."

Goshi then hurried upstairs, returning with something clutched in his hand. When they heard the sound of Rummy's footsteps at the front of the house, Willow and Rock shut themselves in the larder.

"It's coin that he keeps upstairs, isn't it?" Willow said in a whisper.

"Of course it is," Rock answered, grinning. "The wicked old rat doesn't want the elders to steal it from him, though I don't know what he thinks _he's_ going to do with it. Maybe he's just afraid they'd give it all to the Harvesters for dusk."

"The elders would never do that!" Willow hissed, offended that Rock could even think such a thing.

"Well, maybe Druse would, then," he whispered back.

As Goshi had predicted, Rummy the Trail did not stay long. Willow wanted to know if he carried a letter from Rinnet. But, she heard him tell Goshi that he had come straight from the city this time, without turning off to the marsh villages. However, he did leave behind a pile of printed sheets of paper, which fascinated Willow.

After Rummy had left, Willow held one up to the window to read the print. It said, _City warehouses well stocked for winter. Harvesters first wagonload of rare honeywood is welcomed through the city gates. Promises of more to follow._

Rock looked away in disgust. "What do you want to read city news-sheets for old man?" he asked Goshi. "It's just the stuff the Harvesters want people to know."

"Aye, and knowing what they want known gives us clues about the things they don't want known," replied Goshi. "And what would you know about city news-sheets, eh? I'll bet my best boots you grew up in the Spice City, boy. And what I'm most interested in, is why you're so touchy about it."

"Mind your own business!" Rock grunted. He scowled at Willow, when he noticed she was looking at him.

NINETEEN

The day after Rummy the Trail's visit, Hest arrived at Goshi's house.

"I never said a word!" Goshi insisted, when Willow glared at him.

It was too late to hide by that time, anyway. As soon as Hest arrived, Goshi led him straight into his living room, where Willow and Rock were finishing a meal of cheese and wild pears. Village rumour said that Goshi always noticed anyone climbing Screed Hill in daylight, long before they knocked on his front door. But, if the old man had spotted Hest from a distance, he had given no warning of it to Willow.

The first thing Hest said was, "Wolf's not dead. He went all floppy, and Druse made him throw up. Then she put him to bed and had a very happy couple of days nursing him. He's better now."

Willow was horrified to realise that a small part of her actually seemed to feel slightly disappointed.

"I'm still not going back," she replied.

Rock and Goshi were not even bothering to hide their own disappointment at Hest's news.

"Ah, bad luck girl," said Goshi. "At least you tried."

"Oh well," Rock added, "I suppose one Harvester less wouldn't have made much difference anyway."

"Don't make fun of me!" cried Willow. "I might have really killed him! That would have been awful, whoever he was and whatever he did. And I was wrong. Everything isn't all right, now just because he didn't actually die!"

"But nobody blames you, Willow," Hest continued. "In fact, not many people have any idea that you had anything to do with Wolf's illness. All that most of the villagers know is that he was suddenly taken ill. Everyone knows he had dusk. A lot disapprove, and think he just took too much. Emmie was the only person who was close enough to see what you and I really did."

Willow interrupted him, to ask, "Did she tell?"

"Well, yes she did," Hest admitted. "She told Druse. You have to remember, Willow, Emmie really thought she was doing the right thing. No one except us knew what was wrong with Wolf, and she was frightened."

Willow sighed, feeling ashamed. Emmie might have saved Wolf's life. If Druse had not suspected he was poisoned, she might not have thought to make him sick, straight away.

"But hardly anyone else believed Druse, or Emmie," Hest insisted. "Most of the villagers think Druse scared you away. That she blamed you for Wolf's illness when you had nothing to do with it. Now, people are worried about you. You should come back."

Willow twisted folds of her skirt between her hands, staring down at her lap. She kicked her toe against the edge of the plate of uneaten food lying on the floor by her chair.

"No," she whispered. "I really can't go back. I did do it. It's even worse if they think I didn't."

She looked at Rock. He sat across the room from her, calmly eating, with pear juice running down his chin. But he was obviously studying her face.

Finally, Rock wiped his chin, and spoke. "If you want to go to the marsh villages and find Rinnet, I think I could get you there. I know the way as far as the start of the marshes, anyway."

Goshi made a spluttering noise, as if to suggest that he had always known Rock had once travelled that way.

Willow glanced towards Hest.

"Old Jesty said to tell you there's been no word from Rinnet, yet," he said.

"So, the elders know I'm here?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Then it's go home or move on," Willow said." I'm not ready to go home yet. I want to go to Rinnet."

"It may take us four or five days," Rock warned. "Rinnet went on horseback. We'll have to walk. We'd best go as soon as possible. Summer's nearly over."

"I'll miss you, and so will Emmie," said Hest, giving Willow a gentle smile.

Then Goshi poured them all a mug of his harsh ale. After that, he amused himself for a while by trying to talk Rock into admitting he grew up in the Spice City. Meanwhile, Hest explained to Willow that he planned to go travelling next spring. He would search for a water reader who could help him develop his talent.

"Henty says that Ripple, the riverwoman from Woodcut, might know some tales of water readers. So I'll go there first, and see where the river flows from then on," he said.

"Maybe I'll come back before then," Willow told him. "I won't ever forget you. I've still got the wooden mouse you carved – the one Emmie said looked like a scruffy rat. I wish I had something like it to give to you."

"It doesn't matter," he assured her. "Sometimes we should be like water, always moving and changing. Flowing water doesn't rest in things. But I know you, and I won't forget you."

Hest left before dark. The next day, Rock and Willow prepared for their journey. Goshi even let them take what they could use from his larder.

"Druse has stopped pestering me, now she's got the mad Harvester to fuss over," he said. "But I still know how to get her running up this miserable hill with a sack full of food if I need it. She's as easy to catch as a puddle fish."

"You're a lazy old pile of bones," Rock accused him. "Is it all that coin you've got, that stops you doing anything for yourself at all?"

Goshi raised a fist, threateningly. "You've kept your own secrets, boy. Don't you be prying into mine," he growled.

Rock stood up straight in the doorway to the larder. His pack was on the floor, resting against his knees. Willow was kneeling beside her own pack, trying to cram in one last blanket.

She looked up to see Rock staring very hard at Goshi.

"I know you're a Rat, old man," Rock said.

Goshi's eyes flashed back. "You know nothing!" he spat. "That filthy excuse for a man that calls himself Wolf, is the first Harvester that's come to Warner. Or to any of the hill villages, as far as I know. There's been no need for Rats here. I have a few contacts in the city, that's all. They call themselves Rats now, since the Harvesters poisoned the animal kind, but they've been standing against the Harvesters since long before _that_ dangerous experiment."

"How do they stand against the Harvesters?" Willow wanted to know. She wished Goshi had come down into the village and stood against Wolf. It might have saved her a lot of pain.

"Same way you were planning to, mostly," he said. "By talking sense, and trying to get the Harvesters to speak the truth. To do that, the Rats need information. That's all I give them. I write to them, and tell them things I've noticed, and things I've heard. I told them about your heroics with the spike fish – that poor fish was woke out of its winter sleep by something, and I'm betting the something had to do with the harvest of the Forest."

Goshi's face had now lost all of its usual threatening expression. Finally, he said gruffly, "Those packs won't hold any more now. Leave them there. We'll sit on the step and have one more mug of ale, for old time's sake. Then you'd best be going."

It was around noon. Goshi had got out of bed early to supervise his visitors' departure. They took bread and cheese, as well as the ale, and sat on the back step for the last time. When they had eaten, and the ale mugs were empty, Goshi said, "Now off you go, and leave me in peace."

Rock led the way up Screed Hill. There was a rough and overgrown trail above Goshi's house, past the spring and on amongst the scattered, low-growing rockgripper trees. Willow paused at the top of the hill, looking down on Goshi's grey slate roof and the overgrown scar of his ancestors' quarry. Then she followed Rock down the sunlit slope of the far side of Screed Hill, and out of the valley of Warner.

The first few hills were pleasant walking. The grass was short and the ground felt springy under Willow's boots. There were grazing sheep, and she thought she heard a shepherd's cry, although there were no people in sight.

Towards evening, a huge flock of rooks came crying and chattering to roost in a patch of woodland. They reminded Willow that farms and villages were nearby, even though she could not see them. She remembered how the rooks of Warner liked to squawk and cackle at Old Jesty when he tried to talk them into leaving the newly-planted grain alone.

Rock pointed to the trees. "That might be a good place to spend the night," he suggested. "If it's safe for rooks, it's probably safe for us."

It seemed a long way to walk before dark, but Willow was too tired to disagree. It was beginning to feel cold on the open hillside. She trudged onward, after him.

"Scared?" he asked her, once.

"Only tired," she answered, stubbornly.

They reached the trees as the sun was setting. It was not a very big wood, but was probably a very welcome shelter for the sheep in bad weather. Several of the larger trees looked suitable as a canopy to sleep under, but Rock walked on past them.

Just as Willow was getting concerned about losing sight of him in the dark, she heard him say, "That's more like it."

Rock was patting the trunk of an enormous old oak tree. He lifted his pack from his shoulders. After feeling around the tree trunk with his hands, he stepped forward and seemed to disappear. Willow hurried closer, realising that the tree was hollow.

She followed Rock through the black shadow into which he had disappeared. It was a gap in the trunk, like the entrance to a cave. Inside was a round space, carpeted with fallen leaves and roofed with live ones. Willow began pulling blankets from her pack before it got too dark to see anything at all.

"Make sure you eat something," Rock warned her. "We've got even further to go tomorrow, and we'll soon be on rougher ground."

Willow was much too tired to be hungry, but she nibbled a few dried berries, anyway. Then she lay down, intent on sleeping without interruption, until dawn.

But, some time later, she woke in terror, in the dark, struggling from dreams of black water. Before remembering where she was, Willow sat up sharply, banging her head on a bend in the tree trunk. Clutching the blankets around her shoulders, she wrapped her arms around her knees, shivering miserably.

Rock moved, somewhere on the leaf litter floor. "Willow, are you awake?" he whispered. "Are you all right?"

"Just bad dreams," she answered. "It's since the flood. I keep dreaming of water." Ashamed to admit to being terrified by a dream, she added. "I'm all right, go back to sleep."

But Rock said, "I get bad dreams, too. Not so much if I can sleep on stone, but here, with wood all around... it's hard to forget."

"Forget what?"

Rock answered slowly, as if he was still half inside his own nightmares.

"Goshi was right. I grew up in the Spice City. And you know I'm an animal talker. Well... the thing is, I found that out in a very dramatic way, when the Harvesters decided it would be a good idea to poison all the rats in the city. Rats like to make their nests in the walls of wooden buildings, and under the floorboards. Bedrooms are no exception, and you wouldn't believe how many rats can live in just one house."

Willow's eyes filled with tears of sympathy.

"Oh Rock," she whispered.

"I've learned to handle it," he said, stiffly. "Go to sleep. We've got a lot of walking to do tomorrow."

TWENTY

They left the wood at dawn, walking across dew-soaked turf through the early morning. The grass sparkled with water drops. Willow could see even the smallest spiders' webs outlined between the grass stems.

As the sun warmed the ground and the dew disappeared, the way became rougher. The turf gave way to stony ground, overgrown with scrubby bushes and tangles of creeping plants, including some with sharp thorns. They searched out a small stream running over rocks amongst the undergrowth, following it downhill.

By noon, the stream had led them to what Rock called a riverway. The river was fast and noisy. The riverway was a path cleared of saplings and thorny plants, going through a wood of tall trees.

The way seemed gloomy and damp after the open hills, but at least there were no more thorns for Willow's skirts to catch on. The path was soft earth. She had stuffed her boots with burdock leaves, but her feet still began to hurt as if they were growing blisters.

The harsh sound of fast water over rocks, and the oppressive dampness, soon made Willow uncomfortable. She could see from the height of the banks that the river was lower than usual, but it still seemed violent in comparison to Warner's river.

She was walking ahead of Rock when the path followed a bend in the river, close to a high rocky cliff grown over with mosses and clinging plants. As Willow came around the bend and saw what confronted her, she stopped walking, abruptly. Then she found herself beginning to shake with fear.

The path ahead wound away from the river, close against the rock face. Tumbled sharp stones and boulders at the foot of the cliff suggested recent rock falls. And the river below roared and foamed. Spray rose above the water as it raced forward, then fell away in a cascade of waterfalls and swirling pools.

Willow felt Rock's hands on her shoulders. She wished she was not trembling quite so much. It annoyed her to be reminded he had travelled this way before, when this was the first time she had ever properly left Warner.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'd forgotten how impressive it is. I should have gone in front."

"Impressive?" Willow spoke through gritted teeth. "It's horrible!"

She tried to uncurl her hands, which were clenched into fists. Then forced herself to turn round, so that Rock had to let go of her. With her back to the river, face to face with Rock, she started to feel safer.

"It's the noise," she explained. " It's too much like the flood. And the path goes down to the bottom of it. I don't want to go all that way with that noise in my ears!" She was almost shouting.

Putting her hands over her ears, she added, "I don't like it at all. But, if we have to do it, let's go down quickly. Let's get away from here."

"All right then," Rock agreed, sounding reluctant. "But don't you think it's impressive? Isn't it beautiful?"

"No! Come on. You go first, please."

"It's because everything's new to you," Rock insisted. "You're not used to travelling yet. You'll love it on the way back, I promise you. But don't worry, the lonely part of the journey's nearly over. We'll start to meet other people soon."

Willow did not think meeting strange people was likely to be any easier than encountering strange landscapes.

She tried to overcome her fear of the cascade by wondering what Hest would make of it. He would probably find it exhilarating. Following Rock as quickly as she dared, with her hands tightly pressed over her ears, Willow kept moving. By the time they reached the wide, slow stretch of the river beyond the cascade, her hair was wet with spray, and she was thoroughly sick of travelling.

To her relief, there were no more cliffs or rapids after that. The river soon flowed more gently, through thick woodland. In the late afternoon, she and Rock left the path, searching the woods for a place to spend the night.

They had passed a tree marked with a symbol which, Rock had explained, pointed to a wayfarers' hut. But they had decided to avoid the hut, because there was no knowing who else might be sheltering there.

Willow was relieved not to have to meet strangers at the end of such a tiring day, but it was a cold and uncomfortable night. They slept in a hollow beneath a fallen tree trunk.

The next morning, they came to the wayfarers' hut after some other travellers had moved on. So they ate breakfast in the warmth remaining from the abandoned campfire. The hut contained no beds or mattresses. It was nothing more than a wooden roof and wooden walls over a wooden floor. Willow was disappointed.

"I thought there'd be a fireplace, and a room with bunks, like at Minty's," she complained.

Rock laughed. "This is too close to the city for village hospitality," he explained. "What you see here is generous. Local people repair this hut. And they weed out saplings from around the firepit. They keep that little path down to the river clear of weeds, so travellers can reach fresh water. It's more than most low-country folk would do, believe me."

Continuing along the riverway, they began to meet other travellers. Willow began to notice pathways leading up the slopes, away from the river and into the trees.

"Do those paths lead to other villages?" she asked Rock. They had just passed a man and a young boy, who had greeted them politely and then disappeared along one of the paths.

"Some," he answered. "Or just one or two houses, like the Healers' Cottages. The people here don't generally farm. They hunt and fish, harvest the woodland plants, and trade with the city."

"So the city has farms enough to feed itself and have spare to trade?" Willow asked, doubtfully. The people they had seen so far had not looked particularly well fed, or well clothed.

"You'll see, tomorrow, I expect," Rock said, "when we get to the end of the riverway."

"But we're not going to the city!" Willow felt suddenly afraid.

Rock shook his head. "Sorry, Willow," he said. "I forget that you've never been out of Warner. There are no farms _in_ the city. There are orchards and gardens there, but most of the food for the people who live there is grown in the fields outside it. The farmers take the food there in carts and sell it for coins."

Willow frowned. She felt stupid, and did not want Rock to know how little she understood.

"How many people live in the city?" she asked, cautiously.

He answered, solemnly, "A lot."

"And none of them can grow their own food?"

"Well, some of them keep chickens or pigs, and, as I say, there are growers of fruits and vegetables inside, but there's no room for fields of grain or roots, or grazing for cows and sheep, no."

"Well," Willow said dismissively, "That sounds very dangerous to me."

That evening, it began to rain. They had seen no signs to indicate a nearby wayfarers' hut, and had met no other travellers for some time. Eventually, they ventured along one of the woodland paths, and began to search for a place to spend the night.

Rock took a broken stick from the ground, using it to poke around in the undergrowth. "Here we are!" he said.

Willow looked closer and realised that he was pointing at a rotting wooden shelter, which had been concealed in the leaves.

"Come on," he said. "It's probably an old pig sty. It's getting dark. I think this is the best we can hope for."

They scrambled through a hole in the rotten boards. The original entrance was blocked with brambles. It was very damp, but at least they were safely hidden for the night.

The next morning, Willow was astonished to look out through the vegetation that covered their shelter and see a tatty cottage, very close by. Smoke was rising from its chimney.

"This is somebody's home!" she hissed at Rock, who was barely awake. "Look! How could we have missed that cottage, last night?"

Rock wriggled over for a look.

"We came in here from the back," he said, not sounding all that concerned. "It was dark by the time we got settled in. It doesn't matter. We haven't done any harm, have we? And no one knows we're here."

Willow continued to look out at the cottage. Eventually, an old man, who looked quite as filthy as Goshi, stepped out and spat onto the earth. Then he went back inside.

Leaving hastily, Willow and Rock continued on their journey. But first, Willow felt obliged to creep stealthily up to the cottage door, leaving behind a packet of hezzleberry tea.

Rock laughed at her. "He'll think the Green have been by in the night!" he teased.

As Rock had promised, the riverway soon brought them to the edge of the woods. Here, the river became even wider and quieter, and the trees thinner. Eventually, the path ended and the way opened out onto a flat plain. The river snaked away between level fields, its passage marked by a line of taller plants and trees that grew along its banks.

Rock pointed out another line of trees, far in the distance, broken by the roofs of cottages and barns.

"That's the big river," he said, "flowing on to the Spice City. This is just the edge of the farmland. The best soil is nearest the big river, so that's where most of the villages are."

Willow squinted into the distance. She thought there were people working in the far fields. The nearer fields seemed to be grazing for cows and sheep. The land seemed to spread out forever.

"It's so big," she said.

"It's flat, that's all," Rock answered. "The track to the marshes is this way."

"I thought you'd never been there," said Willow, suspiciously.

Laughing, he showed her the marks on two trees at the end of the riverway. On one side of the path was a circle, which he said indicated the city. And on the other, was a mark like a clump of reeds growing in marshy ground.

The track to the marshes led away from the fields, and in amongst thickets of trees, shrubs and climbing plants. The track itself was dry, but Willow often heard trickling water, from somewhere within the green carpet of plants growing under the trees.

Once, they passed a pond which was almost entirely covered in green weed. The dark surface of the water was only visible in places where water-birds paddled, feeding noisily on the weed.

By noon, Willow had begun to notice plants she did not recognise. Rock caught her glancing curiously at a climbing vine with green berries.

"Talk to it," he said. "Introduce yourself."

Willow shook her head, irritably. She was beginning to worry about what Rinnet would say when she heard what had happened back in Warner. And she was also wondering if Rinnet even wanted to return to Warner, since there were so many new plants to explore in the marshes.

They passed more ponds, and the air began to feel damper. Swarms of biting insects followed them as they walked, despite the pungent plant juices they had both rubbed on their skin to deter them. Rock stamped along the track, swearing, which did not help Willow's mood.

"Shut up before they fly in your mouth!" she snapped at him.

He fell quiet for a while, but did not seem able to keep it up. Willow soon heard him muttering to himself, again.

"What am I doing here?" he grumbled on. "What was I thinking? What Harvester would dream of going to the marsh villages?"

Willow stopped walking and stared at him. "What did you say?" she asked, sharply.

Rock stood looking at her in silence for a long time.

Then, at last, he said, "Let's have a rest."

They found a moss covered log which was not too damp, and sat down carefully. Then they picked dock leaves to push into the tops of their socks, cooling the worst of the insect bites above their ankles. Willow waited for Rock to speak.

He took a deep breath. "My parents are Harvesters," he said, finally. "Most people would say that makes me a Harvester, too."

"You mean," said Willow, slowly, "you were brought up as a Harvester, believing that the talents don't exist. Seeing plants and animals as tools for people to use. Using people, too, and giving them coin."

He nodded. "Yes."

"And," she went on, "when they poisoned the rats, you heard them as they died. With a talent you had not known it was possible to have."

"Yes," he whispered. "Our district was one of the last to be treated. I had no idea I could hear animals until the poisoners came to our house. I tried very hard to convince myself it wasn't real, but it was. I couldn't have imagined what dying rats would feel. I'd never have guessed how they'd try to help their young, even in their panic. Or how much they would care. And I never knew there were so many."

"Did you tell your parents?" Willow asked.

"No," he answered, stiffly. "I suppose I was waiting for an excuse to leave, anyway. You said the Harvesters use people. My parents are very active Harvesters. They would use their child as much as they'd use anybody else. I don't know what they would have done if I'd told them. Maybe they'd have hidden me away somewhere, so I couldn't embarrass them. I decided to save them the trouble."

"Well you're not a Harvester in any way, then," Willow announced, decisively. "You are who you are. Rock, animal talker."

He smiled weakly, and shrugged. "I suppose," he said. "But I'd rather you didn't mention any of what I've just said when we're in the marsh villages. The people there _really_ don't like Harvesters."

They walked on, and soon reached the true marshes. There, large bogs and weed choked ponds lay between the trees, and long stretches of the track were laid with wooden walkways across the water. Clouds of insects hung over every boggy hollow and fallen branch.

Willow could hear birds everywhere, although some of their songs were new to her. But the dense vegetation hid them all from her sight.

The increasing gloom began to warn of evening.

Willow nervously asked Rock, "How much further to the villages?"

"I don't know," he said. "I've never come this way before, remember."

Willow sighed and plodded on, with Rock following behind.

A sudden crack startled her, and she stopped still. There was a swish of leaves, and a small girl leapt out of a bush onto the track in front of them.

The girl wore brown trousers and a thick brown shirt. She had curly red hair with a few leaves and feathers stuck in it.

"My name is Wildcat," the girl announced. "I can talk to animals and I can nearly talk to plants. Rinnet's in Upmarsh. I've come to show you the quick way."

TWENTY-ONE

"How did you know we were coming?" Willow asked the girl named Wildcat, in astonishment.

"I told you, I'm an animal talker."

Although Wildcat was small, Willow began to suspect the girl was not much younger than herself.

Wildcat adjusted one of the feathers in her hair. She obviously wore them deliberately.

"A squirrel saw you turn onto the marsh track," she explained. "That's how I knew there were strangers coming. Rinnet felt you coming through the plants, so that's how I knew who you were. You are Willow and Rock, aren't you?"

Not waiting for either of them to answer, she must have noticed Willow's frown. "Oh, is that one of the things Rinnet couldn't do before?" Wildcat asked. "She's learned a lot since she got here. You'll see. She says the plants have been teaching her all the things our tree speakers used to do."

"Well, I'm tired, and I've come a long way to see my mother," said Willow, glaring at the red haired girl. "Can we get on now?"

"This way," said Wildcat, cheerfully.

She began walking on along the track. Just as Rock and Willow caught her up, she stepped into the bushes, calling, "Stay close behind me."

Wildcat led them uphill through the undergrowth. Willow's skirt caught on brambles. Rock swore loudly as a branch caught his pack and almost pulled it from his shoulders. It was a steep and undignified climb, which made Willow want to scream with exhaustion and irritation. But her feet did not get wet or muddy, even once.

"If you don't know the way, it's safer to follow the boardwalk across the water to Downmarsh," said Wildcat, looking over her shoulder at them. "Then you have to walk on through Downmarsh to get to Upmarsh. But this way's much quicker. I know the whole marsh. I can even find my way in the dark."

Willow thought the trees looked thinner ahead, and hoped that meant that Upmarsh was near. Then something chattered close to her ear. A squirrel leapt down from the branches above her head to land on Wildcat's shoulder.

"Oh, hello Squint," Wildcat greeted the animal out loud. To Willow and Rock she said, apologetically, "I had to give him a name. It's the way he looks at me."

Rock stared at the squirrel for a while. Then he laughed. "And he's got a name for you, too," he said.

"You're an animal talker?" Wildcat sounded flustered.

It was clear that Wildcat did not know everything there was to know, after all.

They pushed on through the trees and reached a wooden building. Then Wildcat took them past a windowless wall and into a clearing, in the centre of which was one very large marsh oak tree.

There was a seat at the foot of the tree, on which a woman rested, with a covered basket on her lap. The woman wore a long red skirt, and a brown shawl around her shoulders. Her hair was brown and grey, tied in a long, neat plait. She looked up. Immediately, Willow began running towards her.

Rinnet laughed. She tugged Willow's pack from her back, as Willow fell onto the seat beside her. Brushing Willow's hair from her eyes, Rinnet licked a finger and used it to rub dirt from Willow's cheek.

"Well," she said, "you're a bit untidy, but underneath I think you're still my daughter."

"Yenna..." Willow gasped, but Rinnet interrupted her.

"I know Yenna died. She drowned in a flood. I had a message, last new moon. I sent a letter straight back, to tell the elders I'll go home as soon as I can. But I must be sure these people can manage without me before I leave, or there'll be more deaths. I sent a letter to you, too, Willow, but it seems neither of them have reached Warner, yet."

Then Rinnet glanced across at Rock and Wildcat, who were tactfully staying a short distance away. "Come on," she said. "You two travellers are exhausted, I can see that. And by the looks of you, you'll be needing lotions on a crop of insect bites tonight, or you'll be feverish in the morning. Go on home Wildcat. I'll put these two to bed, and you can see them again tomorrow."

Rinnet directed Rock and Willow across the clearing and into the trees, to a wooden cottage. Willow dazedly realised that there were similar cottages all around the marsh oak tree. She had not noticed them at first. It was beginning to get dark and the cottages were the same colour as the trees around them.

"I use this cottage in Upmarsh, and another one in Downmarsh," Rinnet explained. "It saves carrying medicines from one to the other all the time. There are a lot of empty cottages here."

Rinnet built up a good fire in the hearth, heating water for Willow and Rock to wash in. She found salves and lotions for their bitten skin and blisters. Then she warmed a pan of soup for them to eat with fresh bread.

It was not long before they were both clean and fed, and seated by the fire, wrapped in blankets.

"Now, tell me what's happened," Rinnet finally demanded.

Willow tried to speak, but found that she could not. Her insect bites had begun to sting and burn. Her legs and back ached. Her feet throbbed. She was so tired, it made her want to cry.

"She thinks she's not a tree speaker anymore," Rock said for her.

"Start at the beginning," Rinnet told him, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

So then, Rock explained about Wolf's arrival, and the skin dance, and Willow's baby sister. "Now you should tell the very last part, Willow," he finished. "I wasn't there."

Suddenly Willow wanted to speak, after all. It was important to tell Rinnet the truth. "I didn't mean to kill him!" she cried.

Rinnet's eyes widened. "Who did you kill?" she snapped.

"No," Willow tried to explain, "he didn't die, I only thought he had. He's all right now, and I didn't mean to kill him anyway, I only wanted to make him tell the truth for once. He took too much, though, and I thought I'd killed him."

She knew she was talking too fast for Rinnet to understand. The words seemed to be tumbling out of their own accord. "Wolf," she added, desperately, "I thought I'd killed him."

Rinnet set the kettle on the fire. "One cup of tea, and then you two need sleep," she said, briskly.

As the water boiled, Rinnet questioned Willow. Finally, Rinnet seemed to be satisfied that she understood what her daughter had done. Rinnet was silent as she brewed the tea. Handing over a mug of hot, steaming redberry, she gave Willow a long look.

"You were right to come here," Willow's mother said, at last. "I'm sorry. It was wrong to expect you to manage on your own. Maybe I should have gone home as soon as I got the elders' message. What you did was very wrong, but you know that. At least the man survived. Willow, the elders could have had you chased out of the village if you really had killed him... Ah, well. Now you've learned, and I hope you'll never do anything so foolish again."

After that, Rock explained how they had stayed with Goshi. Rinnet began to laugh.

"Well," she gasped, "of all the crazy things in this sorry story, that's the daftest!"

They went to bed as soon as they had finished the redberry. Rock's bed was a cushioned bench under the shuttered window. Willow and Rinnet slept in a loft in the roof, reached by a ladder. There were no wooden beds upstairs, just mattresses and blankets, but it felt like the warmest and softest place Willow had ever slept.

When she woke the next day, light flickered through chinks in the roof, where the wooden overlapping slats had warped slightly. She could hear birds or squirrels pattering over her head, and leaves and twigs rubbing against the cottage, rocked by the wind. She could also smell bread baking, and soon hurried down the ladder in her underclothes to see if it was cooked.

Rinnet gave her a bright green skirt and a yellow blouse to put on.

"Everyone here likes to dress in bright colours," she said, "except Wildcat, of course. Makes them stand out from the trees, I expect. Now, that's a lot better."

Willow stood before her, clean, colourfully dressed, with her hair freshly combed. But Rock had stubbornly refused to wear the red trousers that Rinnet had borrowed for him. He sat under the window in his grimy travelling clothes, smirking at Willow.

As soon as they had eaten, Rinnet began giving more instructions. "Right," she said. "The Upmarsh apprentices will be here soon. Rock, I want you to introduce yourself to them and give them a hand. They're stocking this cottage with enough medicines to last well into next summer."

Willow realised that the stacks of baskets and wooden boxes against the walls of the cottage all contained medicines. She had assumed they were for storing clothes, or tools, or cooking utensils. She wondered if the medicines Rinnet had brought with her from Warner were already used up. That made her consider just how sick the remaining marsh villagers might be.

"And you are coming with me," Rinnet said to Willow, sternly. "It's time to put an end to this nonsense about not tree speaking anymore."

Willow could see that there was no point in arguing. Sullenly, she laced up her boots and followed Rinnet outdoors.

Rinnet marched swiftly through the trees, so Willow followed. They passed other cottages, and brightly dressed people of the marshes. All the people greeted Rinnet and stared curiously at Willow. Rinnet must have told them all about her tree speaking daughter. Willow avoided their eyes and ached with shame.

"Step carefully here," Rinnet said, leading the way across a path of stepping-stones through a patch of boggy ground.

Jumping from the last stone onto a mound of springy moss, she waited for Willow to catch up. In the centre of the mound rose the buttressed roots of a huge marsh oak.

Rinnet sat down on the moss, in the hollow between two roots, leaning her back against the tree.

"You can talk to this tree," she said. "It's the oldest one I've met around here and it enjoys conversation. Or you can talk to the moss, or the bog plants down there. But you're going to talk to a plant. Now."

Willow decided she was more afraid of Rinnet than of the tree. But, kneeling at its foot, she pushed her fingers into the moss, which was the least threatening of all.

Out of respect for the plant, she tried to forget all of her own troubles. Instead, she greeted it politely. The moss was very cool and green and soothing. There was something about it that reminded her of Hest. It was happy with its roots in trickling water.

To her surprise, Willow then began to sense the tree as well. It seemed that tree and moss and bog were not quite independent of one another. As the tree tried to explain, she caught faint impressions of other beings, including insects and birds, mice and squirrels. The moss, too, was teeming with other life that she could almost sense, but not quite catch hold of.

Very humbly, Willow tried to reveal to the plants her shame about what she had done with dusk and nightsheart.

In reply, the plants seemed to be sympathetic to her pain, but they were not really interested in what had caused it. It was as if they only responded to Willow's present state. They could not understand her concern with the past.

Raising her head, Willow looked across at Rinnet.

"Tree speaking is about the plants, not about us. Do you see now?" her mother said.

Willow frowned. "You don't think the plants in Warner will care about what I did?" she asked.

"If you wanted to do something similar again, they'd warn you it wasn't a good idea," said Rinnet, "but they don't worry about the past."

Stretching her back flatter against the tree and closing her eyes, she added, quietly, "Remember Druse? Remember how the gossips said she couldn't tree speak because the plants wouldn't talk to her? Well, that's not true. Any plant would talk to her if only she'd listen to them. But they don't bother talking to people who can't hear. And if they listen to you, it's because you listen to them. You made a mistake, Willow. I've no doubt you'll make a good many more. But you're a tree speaker for as long as you want to be one."

They rested beneath the tree for a while longer, enjoying the peace of the marsh and its creatures.

"Will you come home soon?" Willow asked, eventually.

Rinnet sighed, and stretched her back again. "Soon," she replied. "The apprentices are nearly ready to manage on their own. We must be home by the start of winter, before the snow. Do you think Rock will want to go with us?"

"I don't know," Willow answered, honestly. "He doesn't tell me what he wants. If Yenna hadn't died, would you have stayed here longer?"

Rinnet looked uneasy for an instant. "There's a lot to learn here," she said. "I'd love to stay longer. I'd love you to stay, too, and develop your craft and help the apprentices and meet all the marsh villagers. But it sounds as if Warner needs us. We'll go back as soon as possible."

TWENTY-TWO

Back at the healers' cottage in Upmarsh, Willow discovered that Rock had settled happily to work with the three apprentices.

Along with Wildcat, there was a boy called Whisper, who looked about ten summers old. His hair was an untidy fuzz of curls that were as pale as Emmie's. And there was Kezzy, a girl of about Rock's age. She was tall, with bright, clear skin, and a long plait of glossy black hair. Willow thought she looked beautiful, but also that the translucence of her skin was not quite healthy.

She soon understood why. As Willow began to help pack away some powdered herbs, the herb dust made Kezzy cough uncontrollably. Rinnet soon hurried her outside into the fresh air.

"That's how the swamp fever leaves you," commented Wildcat. "If you're lucky. Kezzy got it last summer. She's nearly well, but it takes an awful long time, and it's so tiring. A lot of us didn't make it."

Rock abandoned his work and went to sit in the sunshine with Kezzy. Then Rinnet bustled off on an errand to Downmarsh. Willow was left to help Wildcat finish the pots of chest-rub grease. They stirred various herbal powders into the pots of fat warming on the hearth. Whisper, meanwhile, sat on the window seat, sorting out some packets of dried leaves.

"Your friend likes our Kezzy," Wildcat said, conversationally.

Willow smiled. "I hope she keeps him out of my way for a while, then," she said. "He's really annoying, sometimes." Then she asked, "Did you have the fever?"

Wildcat stopped stirring. "No," she answered, quietly. "I don't know why, but..."

"But some other people close to you did," Willow interrupted, wishing she had not introduced such an obviously painful subject.

"Yeah," the marsh girl agreed. "My father, my big sister, my baby brother and my grandmother all died from it. The only person in the marsh villages who's lost more close relatives than me is Blueripple, one of the Downmarsh apprentices. Blue told me he sometimes wishes he'd died as well, because then he wouldn't feel so bad. But I don't. We all have to make the most of what we've got while we've got it, don't we?"

Willow could not think of anything to say. She concentrated on pouring dew weed powder into the pot in front of her.

Wildcat gave a short laugh, nudging her knee against Willow's. "Well, would you feel any better if I was miserable?" asked the marsh girl. "No? Well, neither would I!"

Whisper had been quietly listening in on their conversation. He had now pulled a small table into the light, and was writing labels. Suddenly, he called out, "Wildcat's going to join the Rats!"

"Shhh," Wildcat hissed at him. "I'm not going anywhere until I've helped you and Kezzy to get everybody in the village well again. Then, I might go to the city, but I haven't decided yet, so don't you go telling everyone."

"The Harvesters think everyone in the marsh villages is a Rat anyway," Whisper replied. "Just because we won't waste our time picking marsh plants for them. We're not interested in taking our plants to their city, earning coins just so Harvesters can mash the plants up and take all the goodness out of them, then sell them on for even more coins. If they want our plants, they should use them properly, not murder them. And they should pay us in something we can use, like spices or paper. We do our trading with the low villages, who pay us in grain, mostly. But it's getting harder all the time, because so many of the low villagers would rather sell for coin."

"Do you tree speak?" Willow asked him.

He nodded, proudly, and blushed.

"He's the only one of the apprentices who actually wanted to be a tree speaker," said Wildcat. "Kezzy's pretty good at it, now she's learned from Rinnet. And I'm good at helping sick people, what with all the experience I've had. So's Blue, in Downmarsh. And June. She nursed a lot of her family, like I did, and she was ill as well, like Kezzy. But June was learning to be a weaver before the fevers started. And Blueripple was an apprentice woodcraftsman. All of us, except for Whisper, have had to make big changes to our own plans. But it's to help our villages survive."

Wildcat was now pouring the last of the herbal powder into the final pot. When that was done, she sat back on her heels, looking thoughtful.

"The thing is, though," she continued, "I don't think the Harvesters want us to survive. At least, not as we are. They sent people to talk to us when the fevers started. They tried to persuade the elders to let them dam the streams and try to dry out the marshes. They said that would stop the fevers. But we all knew that if the marshes were drained, the next thing they suggested would be growing crops on the land to feed the city. My father was an animal talker. Before he died, he told me that it's the bites from some insects that cause the swamp fever."

Willow suddenly felt the urge to rub at the bites on her arms.

"You can usually only catch it in spring and early summer," Wildcat added, quickly, obviously having noticed. "But, the thing is, my father also said there had been many, many more of these insects lately, because the clear waters in the marshes have been filling up with mud and sand, and that's what the insects like to live in."

Willow shook her head, trying to make sense of it all.

"He told the elders as well, didn't he, Wildcat?" put in Whisper. "And the elders sent the Harvesters packing. And the villagers who were well enough talked to travellers. And the tree speakers and animal talkers and stone listeners used their talents as hard as they could. That was before they had all got ill."

"And," said Wildcat, who seemed unable to resist finishing the tale herself, "what they found out was that the mud choking the marsh had come all the way from the Forest. The stone listeners could talk to the sand and stuff, you see. That was before the second summer of the fevers, and everyone was pretty angry. But then things got even worse here, and there were other things to think about. The point is, we're not at all keen on Harvesters here, and we've made sure they know it."

Rock and Kezzy chose exactly that moment to enter the cottage. Overhearing what Wildcat was saying to Willow, Rock walked straight out again. He gave Kezzy one stricken look over his shoulder before stepping through the doorway.

Wildcat sighed, impatiently. "Oh, what an idiot," she said. "You'd better go after him, Kezzy."

Turning to Willow, Wildcat then explained, "She already knows his parents are Harvesters. I overheard you talking about it on your way here – not everything you said, I wasn't deliberately listening, but I did hear that bit – so I told everyone. I thought it would help. He's got no secrets to be afraid of, now."

Blinking in surprise, Willow tried to take this in. "Why did you follow us all that way before you let us know you were there, then?" she asked.

"She does that to everyone," Whisper said, before Wildcat could respond. "She's practising for when she goes to the Forest to track Harvesters."

"I am not!" Wildcat snapped at him, angrily. "I just think someone should keep up with the old skills, now so many of the elders are gone. Tracking was something the animal talkers always learned."

Hoping to change the subject, Willow then asked, "So, how many talented people were there in these two villages, then? Before the swamp fever, I mean."

"Two tree speakers, three animal talkers, and three stone listeners," Whisper answered her. "There's just a stone listener left, now. She's a woman in Downmarsh. And us apprentices. And Rinnet. And now you and Rock. And, really, everyone in the marsh villages has some little bit of the talents. It's because the creatures here are all so noisy. Just yesterday, I made a special tea to calm a little girl who couldn't sleep at night, because the drost tree that hangs over the roof of her cottage was singing to her. I asked the tree to be quieter, as well, but the berries are so heavy this year, I don't think it could help itself."

Later on, around noon, Rinnet came back, announcing that Willow was to go with her to Downmarsh after a midday rest.

"Rock, why don't you stay and help here?" she then said, glancing suspiciously at Kezzy.

After they had all finished off the pot of soup between them, the apprentices had some free time. Now that Willow had got over her shame, she wanted to meet some of the strange new plants in the marshes, before she had to return home.

"Do you want to do some tree speaking practice?" she offered Wildcat. "I'll help you if you come out in the trees with me so I don't get lost."

"Sure," Wildcat agreed. "But can we take Whisper with us? Otherwise he's going to be left out, I think."

Wildcat nodded towards Rock and Kezzy, who were sitting close together, deep in conversation. Rinnet had taken a chair outdoors, and was resting with her eyes closed and her face turned to the sun.

"I know a good place to meet plants," Whisper said. "You know, Wildcat, where the stream with the yellow thumb fish is?"

"Where the big drostberry branch hangs down?" she answered. "I like to sit in the fork where that branch meets the tree trunk and talk to the birds. Squint'll probably come if we go there."

They hurried to the place.

"Don't sit in the tree today," Whisper immediately instructed Wildcat. "The branch is weighed down with berries and it's tired. Sit on this flat stone here, and if any birds talk to you, tell them to eat all they want because the tree's ready to share."

Wildcat became grumpy. "How can that little girl you treated hear drostberry, when I can't?"

"She was trying to sleep," Whisper patiently explained, "so she wasn't thinking of other things. You have to be quiet and calm to hear plants, Wildcat."

In the end, the three youngsters sat side by side on the flat grey stone beside the stream. Plants clustered so exuberantly along its banks that only a thin ribbon of trickling water was visible. If there were any yellow thumb fish in there, Willow could not see them. She leaned over a plant with red-veined, spear shaped leaves, touching it gently with a fingertip.

As had happened before, she felt this plant as a part of a larger whole. She could also tell that it was a bitter herb, and quite fierce.

Then Wildcat spoiled her concentration. "There's Squint!" the marsh girl shouted, tapping Willow on the shoulder.

The squirrel was watching them from the berry-laden branch above. Willow waved at it.

"Don't interrupt me," she said to Wildcat. "If you want to tree speak, you'll have to be quiet enough to hear the plants, first."

Wildcat then settled her fingers into a little clump of watermint and closed her eyes. She frowned in concentration. Seeing this, Willow and Whisper exchanged amused smiles.

Then Willow _talked_ , again, to the spear-leaved plant. She felt its bitter flavours and the way its red colouring was made stronger where sunlight landed on its leaves. She also began to sense the other plants around, in a vague, crowded sort of way.

Suddenly, Willow became aware of some kind of huge, overwhelming upheaval. There was tearing and uprooting. Things were all churned up and smashed. The damp, dark soil was ripped away. Countless plants had been destroyed. They lay in a massive jumble, tangled together with other creatures and rocks. This time, Willow knew that what she had sensed was the harvest of the Forest. She remembered the feel of it from her first tree speaking experiences in Warner. But now it seemed far more vivid. With her fingers, she dug into the earth around the roots of the plants on the stream bank. She cried out loud in shock.

Whisper looked across at her sympathetically. "Rinnet says the plants here are stronger and louder than she was used to before," he said. "Was it the Forest?"

Willow nodded her head once, in reply.

After calling Squint down from the tree, Wildcat said, "Squint knows about it, too. He says the Harvesters are killing whole patches of forest, and something that big can't die without everything else feeling it."

"Is the Forest crying for help?" Willow asked, dazedly.

Then Squint suddenly jumped onto her shoulder and ran down into her lap. His claws were sharp, and they hurt her as he squatted on his back legs and chattered at her. She was so surprised that she _listened_ to him, in the same way as if she were tree speaking.

Then she stared at Wildcat in utter amazement, as Squint leapt away and jumped into the Drost tree again.

"I heard him!" Willow gasped. "He said what you just told me, about the Forest. It's very important to him, isn't it? And his name for you is just perfect. He thinks of you as the soft nut in the hard shell!"

TWENTY-THREE

Whisper reminded Willow that it was not unusual for anyone to hear animals, as well as plants and stones, in the marshes. Only those who could do it whenever they wanted to were known as talented.

"It's because the marsh people have always respected other beings," he explained. "Everything's used to being listened to. When we were without tree speakers, before Rinnet came, people still asked plants for advice about treating the fevers and coughs. But it was better after Rinnet got here. She knows a lot about people, as well as plants. That's what healing is, really, isn't it?"

A short time later, they returned to Upmarsh. Willow left her two new friends helping Rock and Kezzy, while she accompanied Rinnet to Downmarsh. There, she met the other two apprentices, June and Blueripple.

June was light-hearted and friendly. Blue was solemn and never smiled. Despite their contrasting manners, they seemed to work together easily. They did not appear surprised by the news that Rinnet would soon be leaving. But they did immediately start to question her about the villagers they were particularly worried about. Both apprentices wrote Rinnet's answers in their notebooks.

Meanwhile, Willow helped to pack away plants and medicines in the Downmarsh cottage. This cottage seemed identical to the Upmarsh one. As she worked, Willow found herself brooding on the harvest of the Forest, and wishing she knew more about the Rats.

Rinnet and Blue went out to look for fringe tree resin to make more cough syrup. June knelt beside Willow, and they checked the seals on a basket full of jars of green ointment. They worked companionably for a while, pulling out any mouldy jars, and counting how many replacements needed to be made.

Then June asked, gently, "What's worrying you, Willow? You keep frowning."

Willow decided to trust her, and asked, "What do the Rats do? What can anyone do, to save the Forest from the Harvesters?"

June sat back on her heels and thought for a long time, before answering. Then she said, "We talk about those questions a lot here, but they're not easy to answer. The Rats are just people, really, and they all have different ideas and do different things. All they have in common is that they want to stop the Harvesters. Some of them go out and talk to people, trying to show when the Harvesters are lying or not telling the whole truth. Some Rats in the Spice City try to help people who suffer because of the changes the Harvesters have made.

"Some Rats are just like us, really, growing plants, keeping animals, trying to live without coins. They're just trying to show, by example, that they don't need to follow the Harvesters' ways. That's why some folk say all the marsh villagers are Rats. But there are some Rats who cause damage, setting fire to the warehouses where the Harvesters keep medicines and tools.

"Then there are rumours of Rats who have talents, who've gone to the Forest. Folk say they find out which part of the Forest the Harvesters are going to cut down next and get there first. And then they warn the animals to move away, and transplant some of the herbs. But I don't know if it's true. It seems to me that the harvest of the Forest begins with the city.

"Marsh villagers spend long winter nights arguing about how to save the Forest. The trouble is, the Harvesters believe they're doing the right thing. The harvest provides wood and metal ores and fibres and foods, and medicines. Most people living in and around the city are grateful. They can make buildings and tools and things to trade for spices. They feel rich. There are a lot of them, Willow, and not many of us."

"Do the people in the city know about us? Do they ever think about the marsh villagers and the hill villagers?" Willow asked, remembering Goshi and his letters to the Rats.

"Not as much as they ought to," June answered. "That's why people like Wildcat decide to go into the city and tell them. Yes, I know she thinks her plans are secret, but just about everyone in both villages has guessed. They won't stop her going when the time comes. We're proud of her."

After a long day's work, Willow spent the night in Downmarsh. In the Downmarsh cottage, her bed was the window bench, while Rinnet had the loft to herself. That night, it was hot and humid, and Willow's insect bites itched horribly.

Soon after finally managing to fall into a restless sleep, she was shocked awake again by a sudden, vivid image in her mind. She saw her name-tree split and broken, with its branches being tugged away by foaming water.

Terrified, she tried to reach out to it by tree speaking. But it was too far away. Or she had been dreaming, or imagining things. She heard the wind howling outside, and the sound of rain pounding on the window. A large storm was obviously building up. Once the thunder and lightning began, Willow got off the window bench and lit the lantern.

Rinnet soon crept down the ladder to join her. They huddled close, and waited for the storm to pass.

"Was it like this when the flood came to Warner?" Rinnet whispered, sympathetically.

Willow nodded her head, without speaking.

Later, when the noise of the storm had begun to quieten, she wriggled away from her mother.

"I've decided something," Willow told Rinnet. "I don't want to go home to Warner. I want to go to the Spice City and join the Rats."

Rinnet shook her head, dismissively. "No," she said. "You must stop running away now. I know you're afraid to go back, but it _will_ be all right. I promise."

"No!" Willow insisted, angrily. "You don't understand! I don't want to go for myself. I'm much more afraid of the Harvesters in the city than of Wolf and Druse, but I want to go anyway. I _have_ to go!"

"Willow," said Rinnet, sharply, "you've proved, by nearly poisoning that Harvester, that you've got a lot to learn. Now, it's very late. Let's try and sleep, now. We can talk more in the morning."

Willow did not say anything more as her mother went up the ladder to the loft. And the following morning, she never got a chance to speak with Rinnet alone.

Marsh villagers were outdoors from dawn. There were leaking roofs and flooded walkways to repair. Several people were injured, slipping on mud, or falling from ladders. Rinnet was soon called away to advise on their care. Blueripple accompanied her, notebook in hand.

Over the following days, Rinnet took Willow on visits to the sick and injured, first in Downmarsh, and then in Upmarsh. They entered a seemingly endless succession of wooden cottages, to visit frail, weak people of all ages. Most had distressing coughs. Some wheezed and gasped for breath much of the time. Many of them still suffered odd bouts of fever.

Rinnet assured Willow all of these would eventually recover. She said those too young, too old, or too tired to survive were gone already. Willow began to wonder how anyone in the marsh villages could still smile or laugh. It would have made more sense to her if they had all been like Blueripple.

Yet, the villagers continued to surprise her. A celebration was announced, to celebrate Rinnet's coming, and to thank her before she left. Despite the exhaustion everyone must have been feeling, people started cooking special foods and hanging out coloured ribbons.

"They're using you as an excuse," explained Wildcat, on a day she and Willow had ended up working together. "Summer's over, and it's good to have a celebration outdoors before it gets cold and wet all the time. And when you get back to the hills, you'll tell everyone in your village how nice we are in the marshes."

Since the night of the storm, Willow had continued to insist on wanting to go to the Spice City, rather than home to Warner. But Rinnet refused to even consider it. And everyone else assumed that what Rinnet decided was what Willow would do. Willow was beginning to think that her grand ideas of joining the Rats would die through being ignored.

She had no opportunity to talk to Rock about her plans, because he was constantly with Kezzy. He had even left Rinnet's Upmarsh cottage, to sleep in an empty barn nearer to Kezzy's mother's cottage.

At last, Rinnet decided that she would definitely leave to return home at the next full moon. And then Rock asked the marsh village elders if they would let him stay in Upmarsh. To Willow's great irritation, he said nothing about it to her. But it seemed that there were no secrets in the marshes, so she soon found out from Wildcat.

"Your friend wants to stay and work here as an animal talker. If he's any good, that means I can go to the city, doesn't it?" Wildcat seemed very excited by the prospect.

"I'll be glad to see the back of him," Willow replied, angrily. "I'm going to the city, too, Wildcat. I know it's what I have to do. If only Rinnet would be more reasonable, I could go with you. I'd like that."

"I'd like it, too," her friend agreed, "but I won't do anything to upset Rinnet."

The goodbye celebration was held just a few days later, in Upmarsh, by the marsh oak tree. Rinnet planned to leave the following day, on foot. Willow had reluctantly filled a travelling pack, but still continued to insist that she wanted to go to the Spice City, not to Warner. Rinnet continued to refuse to listen.

The evening air was cool, so Willow had on a woollen jacket and a thick overskirt. She sat on a brightly coloured woollen rug in the clearing, along with Rock and the apprentices. They drank sweet, bubbly drost sap wine, and ate rich honey cakes, meat pastries, and sweet pastries filled with honey and berries. Some of the marsh villagers drummed and danced. Many were still too weak, so had to sit watching, huddled in thick cloaks.

Once all the food had been eaten, a drummer settled under the marsh oak, keeping up a slow rhythm. Some of the villagers began to dance in couples.

Rock was seated close to Kezzy, as usual.

"Is that a pair-ring dance?" Willow overheard him asking her. "I think I could follow it if you'd show me."

Turning to look across at Kezzy, Willow was surprised to see that she was shaking her head, sadly.

"No," Kezzy said, patting Rock on the knee. "I've explained this to you. There's someone else I'd rather dance with."

Wildcat also seemed to have been listening in. She made an odd spluttering noise. Then she suddenly nudged Blueripple in the ribs. He had been frowning sullenly, as usual.

"Wake up now, you daft raincloud," Wildcat said to Blueripple. "Kezzy wants to dance with you. If you don't say yes, she's going to go with Rock instead."

Staring at Blueripple, Willow saw that he was now looking shyly towards Kezzy.

"It's true," said Kezzy, smiling in Blueripple's direction.

Finally, Blueripple unfolded himself from his cross-legged position. As soon as he stood up, Kezzy joined him. She then took hold of his elbow, pulling him into the dance.

Willow turned back to look at Rock, just as Whisper asked, "She did tell you, didn't she?"

Rock did not answer. Instead, he got to his feet and walked away into the dark.

"Oh dear, oh dear," said Wildcat.

For a short time, Willow continued to watch the dancing. Then, after promising Wildcat she would keep to the safe paths, she set off after Rock.

It was very dark amongst the trees, despite the full moon. But every cottage had a lantern hung above its doorway. Willow followed the paths and walkways from lantern to lantern. From time to time, she called out Rock's name.

"Over here," he eventually replied.

Willow found him sitting on a tree stump beside the path to Downmarsh.

All right, so I've made a fool of myself," he said grumpily, before she got a chance to say anything at all. "Yes, of course she told me she liked Blue, but he's unhealthy, if you ask me, and he won't be good for her."

Willow came to stand beside Rock, looking down at his humped back.

"No," she said, trying to sound sympathetic. "But it's her choice."

Rock sighed, loudly.

"You're too young to understand," he replied.

It hurt, even though Willow knew he was only trying to make himself feel less embarrassed. She turned away and stalked furiously back along the path.

Before she had reached the gathering in the clearing, the sound of footsteps came from behind her. Turning to look back, she saw that Rock had run after her. Stopping by a lantern-lit porch, she waited for him to catch up.

"I'm sorry, Willow, I'm sorry," he panted, stepping up beside her. "I didn't mean it. Please wait. And I let you down, didn't I? Wildcat told me you want to go to the city and join the Rats, which is great, and I should have listened. I could tell you all about the city, and where to go, and what you'll need. But I wanted to stay here with Kezzy, and I was afraid you'd ask me to go with you instead, so I avoided you. I'm sorry. And now I don't want to stay here, after all."

Willow frowned at him. "I might forgive you," she said. "But only if you tell me everything I need to know. Now! I mean it about going to the city. I don't want to go home to Warner."

"You'll need coin," he answered. "You'll have to find work, to earn it. You'll have to pay in coins for food and somewhere to sleep, and for everything you need. Before you can think about being a Rat, you have to survive. But you can't work as a tree speaker. The Harvesters have convinced people the talents are lies."

Willow stared at him in despair, fearing she was about to cry.

Rock looked at her closely in the lantern light. "There's a lot you need to think about," he said.

"I can't do it," she whispered. "Not alone. Rock, if you don't want to stay here, would you help me? Would you come to the city with me and show me what to do? I don't know what to do! I don't want to go home, but I can't wait about here until all the villagers are well and Wildcat can leave with me. I can't wait that long. The Forest is dying."

Rock said nothing for several heartbeats.

"You're not alone," he said, at last. "That's the point of the Rats. But listen, you have to go home to Warner before you go to the city. You need to take the village of Warner with you into the Spice City. And the villagers need to know that you've gone. If you don't go home, you're leaving _them_ alone. So, this is what I'll do. I'll go with you to the city, and I'll help you when you get there. But only after we've both taken Rinnet back to Warner. We both have to finish what we've started."

Willow nodded, seriously. What he was suggesting felt right. She reached out and hugged him, just once. Then they both returned to the marsh villagers' celebration.

TWENTY-FOUR

Rinnet, Willow and Rock left the marsh villages early the next morning. Villagers waved from doorways as they walked past. Rinnet stopped to exchange a few words with each of them.

Wildcat said polite goodbyes, and then quickly disappeared into the trees. Willow knew that her new friend would track them through the marshes.

Kezzy told Rock, "I'll miss you. You are a good friend."

Rock turned angrily away. Kezzy gave Willow an awkward smile. Meanwhile, Whisper nodded, solemnly.

June and Blueripple waited at the edge of Downmarsh. Rinnet hugged them both.

"Keep safe, and take care of the others," Willow heard her mother say to them. "I know you'll do well. None of my five apprentices deserve to be called apprentices any longer."

Suddenly, Willow realised her mother had turned to look thoughtfully in her direction.

"Neither is my daughter," Rinnet added. "Although I keep forgetting it."

At last, Rinnet led the way from the boardwalk onto the track out of the marsh. Willow did not hear or see Wildcat following. Yet, near to the drier ground at the edge of the marsh, the little marsh girl leapt suddenly out of the undergrowth to surprise them.

After her final goodbye to Rinnet, Wildcat said to Willow and Rock, "I expect I'll see you again. Look out for me in the city." Then she ran back into the trees and was gone.

Willow glanced nervously at Rinnet. Her mother still claimed not understand her desire to go to the city. Rinnet twitched her shoulders to ease the weight of her pack.

"If you're both still determined to go," she said. "Then, once you've made your peace with folk in Warner, I suppose it'll be nice to think of you meeting up with Wildcat. She's a sensible little thing, underneath. The city's a big place, mind – I don't know how much hope you'll have of finding each other."

For the return journey to Warner, they slept on cottagers' floors. Rinnet paid for this by advising on healing or tree speaking matters. The travelling was made miserable by persistent rain. But Willow tried not to complain. She would have to endure far worse if she was to become a Rat.

Willow noticed things on the homeward journey that she had not thought about before. Close to the city, people seemed used to seeing strangers, but avoided eye contact. By the riverway, people appeared afraid, and there was a feeling of many things left unsaid.

To Willow's great annoyance, it turned out that Rock had been right about the cascade. Climbing up beside it, instead of coming upon it unexpectedly, she could appreciate its magnificence, after all. Standing beside Rock and Rinnet, watching the churning water and listening to its roar, was unexpectedly interesting. Willow studied the constantly changing patterns that formed between water and light and stone. The three travellers all watched for some time before moving on.

As they came to the hills, Willow noticed signs of approaching winter. On the higher ground, leaves on the trees were shades of brown. They would fall at the first frost.

In the end, crossing the hills was the most difficult part of finding the route back to Warner. When Rock had travelled this way before, he had not been looking for a village. He had come to Screed hill by accident. And when he and Willow had come the other way, to get to the marshes, it had been easy enough just to follow a stream, knowing that all streams flowed to the river and the riverway. But now, all the hills looked just the same.

Rinnet _talked_ to plants as they went along, claiming to be able to sense those of her home, the closer she came to them. Then Rock became extremely pleased with himself when he was able to _talk_ to a flock of rooks. Apparently, the rooks said they roosted in the little wood with the big hollow oak tree. So, bustling with self-confidence, Rock then led Willow and Rinnet to the shelter of the tree for the last night of their journey.

At last, the landscape began to look familiar to Willow. Then Rinnet annoyed her by stubbornly continuing to insist Willow's ideas about going to the city might change, just as soon as she got home and saw how much the villagers appreciated her.

"And Rock, you could be apprenticed to Old Jesty as an animal talker and a drummer," Rinnet said to him as they walked towards Screed Hill.

"No," he replied. Looking across at him, Willow saw that he was staring down at the ground as he spoke. "The pressure from Harvesters and people like Druse is growing. How long will villages like Warner keep on drumming and using the talents, unless something changes the minds of the people in the city? I'll go with Willow, if that's what she wants. If not, I'll probably go anyway."

"Well, you're young," Rinnet said, dismissively, "You're bound to feel things strongly. You might feel differently once we're home."

Eventually, Willow stopped trying to reason with her mother. Instead, she simply concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

After five days of travelling, they reached Goshi's house at midday.

Rock pushed open the back door, calling out, "Where are you old man? You've got visitors!"

Goshi shuffled out to greet them with a sour expression.

"I don't care how far you've come and how empty your bellies are," he said. "There's nothing in my larder. If you want to eat, you'd better have something in those packs you're carrying."

They shared the last of the food from their packs with Goshi. Apparently, Druse had abandoned him for good, this time.

"She's left Warner altogether," he said, with a hint of relish, "and gone off with that stinking Harvester to spread the word, and useless medicines and dusk."

"So I won't get to meet him?" Rinnet sounded disappointed. "And no Druse in Warner anymore. Well, at least your problems are solved for the moment, Willow. There should be no argument against you taking Yenna's cottage as second tree speaker, now Druse is out of the way."

Willow sighed in exasperation. "I'm not staying in Warner," she repeated, for what felt like the hundredth time. "You can manage without me. I'm going to the city to join the Rats. If something isn't done, one day there won't be any tree speakers anymore."

"What's this?" Goshi cried, turning to Rock, "The mouse wants to be a Rat?"

Rock shrugged, in response. So Goshi peered closely at Willow. Then he laughed.

"She's angry Rinnet," pronounced the old man. "As we all should be. I reckon she might just do it."

He then stooped even lower than usual, so that his face was level with Willow's. She could see breadcrumbs in his beard.

"Come here first, before you go," he said. "No one can survive in the city without coins. I can spare a few, if you'll put them to good use, eh?"

Willow was too shocked to answer. Looking across at Rock, she saw that his smile seemed to stretch from ear to ear.

Rinnet, however, was irritated, and began hurrying them both out of the house.

"That's enough of your games, old man," she said to Goshi. "I'd far rather Willow stayed in Warner, where we live quite happily without coin."

As they scrambled down Screed Hill, she seemed to relent a little. "I'd best get someone to take a sack of grain and a ham up to him, at least, or the old fool is going to starve, this winter," she said.

The three travellers' next stop was Minty's, of course. They found Minty enjoying a mug of ale with Old Jesty.

"Look who's here! Hello Rinnet, hello young'uns!" Old Jesty cried, delightedly. "Quick Minty, bring us more ale before the whole village comes in here to hear these three travellers' tales."

There was just enough time for Old Jesty to give Rinnet his own quiet account of Yenna's death, and the tragedy of Frost and Anna's baby. And to confirm that Druse and Wolf had, indeed, left Warner. Then, sure enough, villagers began to arrive one after another, as word began to spread that Rinnet had been seen, with Willow and 'the boy'.

Rinnet was called upon to tell everything she could remember about the marsh villages. Willow found herself scrunched up on a bench beside Rock. It was not long before Hest and Emmie came to join them.

Hest squeezed in next to Willow. "Welcome back," he said. "I hoped I'd see you again before I go looking for the water reader."

Willow looked nervously across Hest's chest at Emmie, who smiled, but still appeared uncomfortable.

Emmie started to ask, in her usual hurry, "So what are the marsh villages like? Do they smell of rotting weed? Are there graves everywhere for the people who died of swamp fever? What strange foods do they eat?" But, suddenly looking even more uncomfortable, she burst out, "Oh bulls' balls! Willow, I've got to pee. Come outside with me."

Willow was only too glad to escape the crush in Minty's and follow Emmie into the back yard. She enjoyed the cool of the late afternoon air, as she waited for Emmie to return from the privy.

When Emmie joined her again, Willow said quickly, "Thank you for telling Druse about what was wrong with Wolf. It was the right thing to do."

"Yes it was," Emmie replied. "He could have _died_ , Willow!"

"I know, I know," Willow answered, humbly. "What I did was very wrong. I know that now."

"Well," Emmie said, with a small sigh, "I was wrong not to believe in the talents."

"What changed your mind? Was it what Hest did with the water?"

Emmie laughed. "Not that time", she said. "It was later, after you'd gone. The wells all got really low, and we were all being careful with water, and trying not to worry. But, then Nonnie started making a right fuss, wailing and carrying on. One day, she started crying and pulling people out of their cottages to come and see how low her well was. She said we'd all have to drink rancid river water. She was trying to get people to take a cart to collect some. So, there was a big crowd of villagers gathered at Nonnie's well. And Hest came over and peered into it."

Emmie bent forward, demonstrating, and perfectly impersonating Hest in his most serious of moods. "He called the water!" she cried. "He made it bubble all the way up inside the well, to prove there was still plenty of it under the ground. People could lean over the well and wash their faces in it!"

Willow was speechless.

Emmie continued, "That's about when Wolf and Druse decided to leave."

Willow smiled. "Emmie," she asked. "Can I tell you something, before we go back inside?"

"Only if I can tell you something first," Emmie replied, giving Willow a rather strange look. "Please? I don't know whether to be exited or scared. I have to say it quick, before I lose the courage."

Finally Emmie was silent.

"Well, go on then," Willow said, staring expectantly at her friend.

"I'm pregnant," Emmie said, in a loud whisper. "I'm going to have a baby."

Willow blinked, and stared.

"Does Nesta know?" she asked, finally.

"Only Nesta, and Hest, because he's my best friend, and Old Jesty, so far. And now you, because you're my best friend, too, and you can tell Rinnet, if you like."

"Wait," Willow said, "do you mean you haven't told the baby's father? Who is the baby's father?"

Emmie smiled broadly. "Rune," she said, quietly. "I suppose he's my very best friend, now, as well as my lover. I'm going to tell him. In fact, I was going to tell him this afternoon, but then Hest came running and told me you were home. I'm going to ask Rune if he'd like to live with me. Old Jesty says if Rune says yes, he'll ask the elders if we can have Nitta's cottage. I know it's a dump, but we could repair it, and make it nice. Druse's is empty as well, of course, but we can't be sure she won't come back."

"What if Flax comes back? Won't he want Nitta's cottage?" Willow asked, uncertainly.

"Flax is in Minty's right now," replied Emmie, laughing. "Didn't you see him? He won't want Nitta's cottage. Oh, Willow, it's such a relief to have you back. Now you and Rinnet will both be here to help when I have the baby, and when Dew has hers as well! Come on. Come and see Flax."

Emmie took Willow by the arm and pulled her into Minty's again. Willow decided that her own news would have to wait.

Flax was, indeed, seated on a bench in Minty's, with a protective arm around Dew. Willow and Emmie squatted on the floor beside the bench, where they could talk in low voices without preventing anyone from hearing Rinnet, who was still recounting the troubles of the marsh villages.

"Hello, Willow," Flax said, cheerfully. "I decided not to run off, after all. I was on my way, but I bumped into Dew, and she persuaded me to stay for an afternoon, and then a day, and then a bit longer. We lived in a barn for a bit, but now we're going to ask for a cottage. I'll build a new one if I have to, but I rather like the idea of asking for Druse's. Anna says she doesn't want it, now Frost's back at the mill."

"Didn't you want to find Guern?" Willow asked.

"I still miss him, and I'd find him if I could. But where would I look?" Flax replied. "He talked about maybe heading for the Forest. If I stay here, at least he knows where to find me if he ever decides to come back. For now, Dew and me'll fight the Harvesters by drumming in Druse's cottage, while Guern's out there somewhere doing the same thing in a different way."

Dew laughed at that. "I'd love to see Druse's face if she comes back and finds me nursing a one-sixteenth-Green baby on her front porch," she put in.

Willow soon returned to her seat on the bench beside Hest.

"Emmie told me what you did to Nonnie's well," she told him. "I've never heard of anything like it."

"I don't know if I could do it again," he replied, modestly. "The water was very willing. Maybe it had had enough of Nonnie's moaning."

Much later, when Rinnet had answered all the villagers' questions about the marshes, and everyone had eaten all the food Minty had provided, it was time for the very last part of the return journey to the Healers' Cottages.

Rinnet, Willow and Rock left Minty's before sunset. Rinnet promised to return to the village the next day and collect Goldnose and Dream, who had been staying with Old Jesty. Goldnose had mated with Jesty's billy goat, Tearaway. So Rinnet would have three goats in the spring, and Goldnose would be good for milking for two more summers.

When the three travellers reached Yenna's doorway, Rinnet paused, taking a long, shaky breath.

"I'm too tired to go inside tonight," she said, shaking her head. "This cottage is yours, Rock, until you want to move on."

"Thank you," he replied formally. "But come inside tomorrow, Rinnet. It still has the feel of her."

Then Willow followed Rinnet to their own cottage. Thinking Rinnet might need a little time alone to get used to being at home again, Willow picked up the water bucket. She headed straight down to the stream, though she was nearly at the limits of her own strength.

On reaching the stream bank and seeing her name-tree, Willow sat right down in the wet mud. Putting her head in her hands, she began to cry.

The willow tree was destroyed, perhaps by the same storm that had come over the marshes. The trunk of Willow's name-tree was torn right through. It had fallen out across the stream. Its leaves and twigs were dead and dying. Winter rain and spring snow-melt would soon raise the water level enough to pull away the last shreds of bark attaching the trunk to its roots. Then it would be carried away downstream.

Even some of the roots were already falling away into the water, where the force that had broken the trunk had dragged down some of the stream bank as well.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I wasn't here," Willow cried, out loud.

She remained huddled on the muddy bank, shaking and sobbing in exhaustion and despair. Eventually, Rinnet came looking for her in the twilight.

"Come on, get up," Rinnet said, gently taking hold of Willow's shoulders. "Don't sit there in the cold and damp."

Willow moved stiffly, reluctantly obeying her mother. Taking her by the arm, Rinnet then forced her to go up close to her name-tree.

"Here," Rinnet said. "Now put your hand just there – no there, in among the roots, under where the trunk is split. That's it. What do you feel?"

The last thing Willow wanted to do at that moment was to tree speak. But, as soon as her fingers touched the wounded tree, it became impossible not to. Blinking tears from her eyes, she turned to look at Rinnet.

"It's more strongly alive than any plant I've ever heard!" Willow said.

Rinnet smiled at her. "Of course it is," she agreed. "It's a willow tree. Next spring, or even earlier, if we don't get a very hard winter, it'll send up shoots all over that broken stump. It'll be more of a bush than a tree, I suppose, but it's certainly not dead. It's got all the power that used to be in that trunk, only now it's stored up in the roots. Did you think it was gone? It takes a lot more than a few storms to kill a willow tree."

Rinnet took the water bucket to the stream edge and filled it. Then she said, "Will you go to the city before the snows come, or will you wait for spring?"

Willow stared at her mother in surprise.

"Before the snow," she answered. "I don't think the Forest has much time left."

About Sally Startup

Sally Startup lives in Hampshire, England. She used to be a professional medical herbalist, so plants often get into her stories. She keeps a messy garden full of useful weeds and a herb cupboard full of home-made remedies.

Discover other titles by Sally Startup and connect with Sally online at <https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/sallystartup>

Spice City by Sally Startup

The harvest of the Forest earns coin for the city elders, but Willow the young tree speaker knows that others meet the hidden cost. She wants to help oppose the Harvesters, but who should she trust? And does Rock, the city boy who agreed to be her companion, have stronger feelings for her or not?

An argument for sustainability in a work of fantasy fiction, Spice City is a sequel to Sally Startup's teen environmental fantasy Tree Speaker.

Download Spice City here <https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/449926>

Hearing the Forest by Sally Startup

The final book in the Tree Speaker trilogy is a longer, wider-ranging environmental fantasy.

Determined to prevent the Harvesters from destroying the Forest, Willow travels with her lover, some of her friends, and some rescued Green people. Inside the Forest, even tree speakers are vulnerable to starvation, disease, predatory animals and poisonous plants. Yet, the harvest of this wild ecosystem must be stopped, or the greater environment will also suffer. Hoping for a peaceful solution using information instead of force, Willow and her companions must first learn how to survive.

Download Hearing the Forest here <https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/939337>

