The Witch's Curse by Keith McGowan

Author:Keith McGowan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co. (BYR)

Meanwhile, Monique was calling from her doorway. “That’s it, run! Run fast. It’s good for you to try out your new legs, Sol. Let your sister down! Hop along after your brother, Connie! I’ll go wake David!”

Sol leaped over dead logs, holding Connie up. The thrush was trying to get Sol to run in a different direction. He turned, following it, hoping it knew something he didn’t. They came into the open by the river. Sol felt an instinctive fear. He was an easy target in such a place. He didn’t know when he’d become afraid of being hunted, but he was. Sol ran down to the water, dodging left and right, following the little bird, which flew right over the river, seeming not to notice for a while that Sol and Connie had stopped.

“Whose bird is it, do you think?” Sol asked Connie as he put her down quickly.

“I don’t know. Maybe the woman in the pet store? With the cane? She had birds like that.”

“Where is it leading us?”

“Out of these woods, Sol. I want to get out.”

Sol scratched low on his neck with his hand, which had no fingers. They had grown together, or rather a tough skin had grown over them. He had to fight the urge to lean forward onto his arms.

“No,” he said. “I don’t think so. At least … Connie, if I make it out of this forest, I’ll still be a deer.”

“Maybe it’s leading us to that place,” Connie said.

“The one no one knows?” Sol asked.

The bird came back, landed in front of them, then took off and fluttered over the river again, landing on the other side. It was a long stone’s throw across, the distance from center field to home plate. It was easy to see the other side.

The bird called from there.

“We can’t get across so easily,” Sol called out, wondering if it could understand him. “Is there a crossing?”

The bird tweeted and called and sang. Maybe it was trying to tell them something, but Sol didn’t know what. It flew across to them, flew over to the other side again, then cried out.

“I guess it doesn’t know another way across,” Sol said. “A bird just doesn’t think about these things. They don’t need bridges.”

This was no slow-moving river that they might have swum across normally. Its currents swept by fast—not as rapids, but fast enough.

“Connie, look, we’re both good swimmers. And I’m strong now, stronger than usual. You hold on to me, and I’ll swim us across. I think we can make it. We might end up downstream some, but I think we can make it. What do you think?”

“I think so, Sol. We can do it.”

“Wear your backpack so it won’t come off.” Sol already had his on his back. Connie had been holding hers in front.

With that, he picked up Connie, who clutched his neck, which was thick and powerful now and covered in fur. Sol splashed in. The water was very cold. It soaked his pants.

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