Light to the Hills: A Novel (60)

They set off through the woods on no particular path, Sass worrying over Finn, and Hiccup skipping behind, dragging the sack. Sass headed in the general direction, figuring she’d recognize the spot when they neared. A lambent light bathed the budding hardwoods as they walked, and apparently, every bird for a hundred miles had the same idea and flitted from tree to tree, calling to each other. Hiccup walked the entire way with her lips in a pucker, trying to imitate the whistles and tweets. They’d gone quite a ways when the normal bird chatter was broken by an unmistakable sound that made Sass stand still.

“Did you hear a rooster crow?” As soon as she’d asked, another trumpet came. Err-er-ERR-errrrr. “Must be one running loose. No cabins over on this land. Too steep.” Sass spotted the grove of ash trees she’d hunted and picked up her pace. “Over there, Hiccup. Get your sack ready.” They picked their way through the underbrush, and Sass knelt down to let her eyes adjust. “Aha!”

A natural teacher, Sass pointed out the small rectangular-looking mushroom. “See here how the cap has these pits and ridges? That’s what you want. They’re brownish and curly-like, and the cap’s stuck on the stem like a man wearing a tall hat.” Hiccup squatted beside her sister and examined the mushroom, her expression serious. Young as she was, Hiccup knew the importance of being able to spot and collect edible and medicinal plants. Sass plucked a morel from the soft ground and split it lengthwise using Cricket’s Barlow knife. “See how it’s hollow all the way down? That’s how you know a real morel. If it ain’t hollow, it ain’t fit to eat. If you try one, it’s liable to make you sick as a dog.”

Once they’d spied the first one, a whole passel of others popped up like magic all around them. The persistent rooster kept up his bugling all the while Hiccup hopped between bunches, holding the sack open for Sass to toss them in. Hiccup tallied until they reached forty, give or take. She wasn’t certain about her numbers after that, and Sass judged they’d collected what they could use up fresh anyway.

Something white darted through the brush in a zigzag, and soon after came a commotion of something bigger crashing through the underbrush and swearing. Sass and Hiccup stood silent and watched as a man clad in worn overalls clambered and stumbled through the woods. His prey ducked under a thicket of mountain laurel and crowed. The loose rooster was still on the run, apparently, and its owner, judging by his red face and cursing, was nigh done giving chase. He might have run past the sisters if Hiccup hadn’t laughed, but how could she not? It wasn’t every day you were gifted such a spectacle. At the sound of her giggle, the man stopped short, breathing hard, and held up a stick he brandished.

“Who’s that?” he called. “C’mon, now, where you at?”

Sass held Hiccup’s arm to shush her, and they stood still as frozen rabbits. Sass hadn’t seen this feller before; he certainly didn’t live near, as far as she knew. Why he came to be chasing after a rooster in the middle of nowhere was a mystery (second one today) but one Sass wasn’t sure she wanted to solve. It was decided for her when the man lowered his stick and turned to face them where they crouched by the ash grove. When his eyes met Sass’s, a slow grin spread above his beard.

“Hunting mushrooms, are you? Don’t care for ’em myself. You wouldn’t want to give me a hand catching this no-count rooster, would you?”

“Why you after him if he’s so no-count?” Sass countered. She didn’t know why she’d asked instead of just declining and heading back the way they’d come. The trees closed in a bit more now that the day had worn on some, almost like they leaned in to listen.

The man chuckled and scratched his beard. “Fair point.” He aimed a finger at the thicket. “That particular rooster happens to be one of my best, despite his being so ornery. I’d hate to lose him to a fox out here. Need to get him home before the sun sinks.” As if to taunt him, the rooster stepped out just enough to be seen and crowed again, his neck stretched as far as it would reach.

“He’s a pretty one.” Sass squeezed her sister’s arm. Hiccup had an eye for chickens, had loved to feed and care for their small flock at home since she was small. Theirs were run-of-the-mill layers, though, mostly black, red, and mottled. This one had white feathers all the way down his yellow legs and fluffed black-and-white plumage around his neck. His tail stuck up in several directions at once, shiny black feathers that looked purple when the light caught them just right.

The man dropped his stick and walked toward them. Sass didn’t let go of Hiccup’s arm. “We need to get back home,” Sass said. “S’posed to plant taters this evening and can’t spare time to catch a chicken.” Why had she volunteered that, about the potatoes, like she needed an excuse to leave? She snugged up the neck of their morel sack and hung it across her shoulder by a loop of twine. In the time it took her to knot and swing the bag, Hiccup stepped away and made a beeline for the thicket.

“With y’all to help me, it won’t take long.” The man had already turned on his heel and headed after Hiccup, heading to the left while she headed right. “If we can just get him cornered, I can grab him.”

Sass huffed impatiently after her sister. She’d give Hiccup an earful on the way home. Already, she knelt down in front of the thicket in her cotton dress, reaching in toward the rooster with her palm out. She wore a loose wool sweater against the chill of the spring evening, and she’d no doubt snag it on the branches. Whose fault would that be? Sass could picture her mama handing her the sweater for mending—“You’re older and should’ve made her take care.”