Tiffany Aching Complete Collection by Terry Pratchett

Author:Terry Pratchett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-04-14T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

Green Shoots

It was much colder the next morning, a numb dull coldness that could practically freeze the flames on a fire.

Tiffany let the broomstick settle between the trees a little way from Nanny Ogg’s cottage. The snow hadn’t drifted much here, but it came up to her knees, and cold had put a crispness on it that crackled like a stale loaf when Tiffany trod it.

In theory she was out in the woods to get the hang of the Cornucopia, but really she was there to keep it out of the way. Nanny Ogg hadn’t been too upset about the chickens. After all, she now owned five hundred hens, which were currently standing around in her shed going werk. But the floors were a mess, there were chicken doo-dahs even on the banisters, and as Granny had pointed out (in a whisper), supposing someone had said “sharks”?

The Cornucopia lay on her lap while she sat on a stump among snow-covered trees. Once the forest had been pretty. Now it was hateful. Dark trunks against snowdrifts, a striped world of black and white, bars against the light. She longed for horizons.

Funny . . . the Cornucopia was always very slightly warm, even out here, and seemed to know in advance what size it ought to be. “I grow, I shrink,” thought Tiffany. And I’m feeling pretty small.

What next? What now? She’d kept hoping that the . . . the power would drop on her, just like the Cornucopia had done. It hadn’t.

There was life under the snow. She felt it in her fingertips. Somewhere down there, out of reach, was the real Summer. Using the Cornucopia as a scoop, she scraped away at the snow until she reached dead leaves. There was life down there in the white webs of fungi and pale, new roots. A half-frozen worm crawled slowly away and burrowed under a leaf skeleton, fine as lace. Beside it was an acorn.

The woods weren’t silent. They were holding their breath. They were all waiting for her, and she didn’t know what to do.

I’m not the Summer Lady, she told herself. I can never be her. I’m in her shoes, but I can never be her. I might be able to make a few flowers grow, but I can never be her. She’ll walk across the world and oceans of sap will rise in these dead trees and a million tons of grass will grow in a second. Can I do that? No. I’m a stupid child with a handful of tricks, that’s all. I’m just Tiffany Aching, and I’m aching to go home.

Feeling guilty about the worm, she breathed some warm air on the soil and then pushed the leaves back to cover it. As she did so, there was a wet little sound, like the snapping of a frog’s fingers, and the acorn split. A white shoot escaped from it and grew more than half an inch as she watched it.

Hurriedly she made a hole in the mold with her fingers, pushed the acorn in, and patted the soil back again.

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