A Hunger of Thorns by Lili Wilkinson

Author:Lili Wilkinson [Wilkinson, Lili]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2023-04-18T00:00:00+00:00

“Green gravel, green gravel, your grass is so green

The fairest young damsel that ever was seen

Dear maiden, dear maiden, your true love is dead

Your eyes they are blue, your lips they are red.

Green gravel, green gravel, stand up as you should

And whisper your name to the sticklegrass wood.”

She repeats the song three times. Beneath the cracked concrete floor, the earth listens. I can feel the sticklegrass wood stirring, stretching, reaching out to me and Ginger and the poppet. Its mettle is raw and green and hungry, surging with power. The oiliness that I sensed is still there too, strange and terrifying.

I can feel it probing at me, but I can’t talk to it. I don’t know how anymore.

Beside me, the poppet twitches. I swallow a scream as it starts to move, stick-and-twig arms jerking and twitching. Its movements are unnatural, punctuated by the creaking of twigs and the faint scrabbling of the mouse, deep in the creature’s chest cavity.

But it doesn’t get up. It isn’t strong enough.

I shake my head. “It’s not working,” I say.

Tears form in my eyes.

Did I sacrifice my own mettle for nothing? What would Nan say?

“There has to be something else we can do,” Ginger says desperately.

Her brow is bright with sweat. Her cheeks are flushed pink.

“Maybe another string,” I suggest, but Ginger shakes her head.

“No way. Too risky.”

I spread my hands. “Then I don’t know.”

I don’t know why I thought I could pull off something magical.

Ginger bites her lip. “What about Ghost Boy?” she asks. “Maybe he can do something.”

“I thought you didn’t trust him.”

“I don’t. But I’m not sure what else we can do.”

I don’t want Lyr to witness my failure as well, but Ginger bullies me mercilessly until I relent and call his name.

The space around us grows cold, and frost rimes the edges of the sludgy iron girders. Then Lyr appears, translucent and glowing slightly in the gloom.

“My lady,” he says in greeting, his tone as icy as the air around him.

“Get in the poppet,” Ginger tells him without ceremony.

He looks startled.

“Can you?” I ask. “Can you animate it?”

Lyr looks uncertain. “I do not know,” he says. “Why do you wish such a thing?”

“We need to lure the Tatterdemalion,” I say. “We’re going to kill it.”

“Are you sure this course is wise?” Lyr says. “I would not see you put yourself in the path of danger. Would it not be better to simply journey to the tower and save your friend? She could even aid you in this quest.”

“Just do it, Ghost Boy,” Ginger snaps. “Enough pretty-talk.”

Lyr glances at me, and I reach out to touch his hand, my fingers sinking through his skin. He is ice-cold, and my fingertips turn white and numb.

“Please,” I say. “I need you.”

He inclines his head. “I cannot refuse you.”

It is simply done, in the end. Lyr sort of wades into the poppet, then sinks until he can’t be seen anymore. I hear the mouse scurrying even faster, and the poppet’s hands grow white with frost. Then it shakily sits up on the plinth.

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