Wild is the Witch (17)
I give Mom and Sarah another round of hugs and congratulations, then I set off to find Pike. Anything is worth keeping that smile on my mom’s face, hearing that lightness in her voice.
Anything.
Even spending several days with Pike Alder in the woods.
Seven
Pike is standing outside the office thanking the tour group, and I watch as he smiles and waves. A girl who looks to be around my age gives him a shy smile and tips her head down when he thanks her for coming, a slight blush spreading across her cheeks. She hands him a small piece of paper, then rushes to catch up with her parents.
On a normal day, I’d want to warn the poor girl, but now all I see is a future that might not happen because of this curse. Because of me.
My body aches to turn around and handle this alone, without Pike, but I think about the way Mom and Sarah looked back at the house. I’m doing this for them. Then I call his name.
Pike looks up from the piece of paper and slips it into his pocket.
“You’re back,” he says. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s great,” I reply, too quickly. “I mean, with my mom. Everything’s good.”
“Okay.”
I pause, kicking my boot into the mud, not able to make the words leave my throat. A strong wind picks up, blowing my curly hair in every direction, and I slide my hands over my head to tame it. Pike is watching me as if he’s amused, and it makes me angry.
“Why are you being weird?” he asks, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head.
“I’m not being weird,” I say, even though I’m acutely aware of how weird I’m being.
He raises his hands in the air as if in surrender, then walks back into the office.
“Wait,” I say, and he turns to face me. “Do you want to go for a walk?”
“A walk? Not really.”
I sigh, hoping he can hear it from where he’s standing. “Humor me.”
“Okay,” he says, grabbing his jacket and shrugging it on. “Let’s walk.”
I shove my hands into my pockets, and we make our way to the trail that winds through the forest bordering the refuge. “That owl is really important to me,” I finally say. “There aren’t many northern spotted owls left, and he’s not ready to be back in the wild with his wing. He was under our protection, and we failed him.” I’m embarrassed when I realize my voice is shaking, and I swallow hard and take a steadying breath.
“You failed him,” Pike says. “I was busy with the tour groups. Had I been working in the aviary, he wouldn’t have escaped in the first place.”
“Seriously? You’re going to point fingers when I’m trying to fix this?”
“I’m just setting the record straight.”
“You’re being an ass,” I say, the words flying out before I can think better of them. Pike stops walking and raises an eyebrow at me.
“At least I’m an ass who’s right.”
“I’m honestly shocked that you have any friends,” I say, giving him an exasperated look.
“And I’m not shocked at all that you don’t have any.”
His words sting, and I’m embarrassed when my gaze drops to the ground. I used to have friends; back in Nebraska, I had lots of friends. At least, I thought I did. Then Alex died and Amy went to jail, and my phone went silent and my lunch table emptied. People whose voices used to greet me in class faded to whispers behind my back, and the fact that I was a witch mattered in a way it never had before.
Mom encouraged me to make new friends when we moved here, to get involved in school activities, but we were starting the refuge, and every day I wanted to rush home and see our animals. I missed them during the day, and I knew they missed me, too. They became my best friends, and somewhere along the way, I forgot about making human ones.
“Are you going to let me get to the point or not?” I ask, keeping my voice even.
“Go ahead.” He starts walking, but his words are still heavy in my chest, and I take several seconds before catching up with him.
“I want to go after the owl,” I say. “Try to find him and bring him back.”
“I didn’t realize he was tagged,” Pike says, and I suddenly feel sick. Of course Pike would think the only way to go after the owl would be if we had tagged him with a location transmitter. Which we hadn’t. I’ll be able to track him using magic, and when we reach the bird and Pike sees there’s no transmitter on him, he’ll likely have a lot of questions.
Questions I can deal with, though. An amplified curse I can’t, so I lie. “Yeah, the day after he got here.”
“That would make it easier,” Pike says, more to himself than to me. The wind gets stronger and it starts to rain. I pull my hood up over my head, and Pike does the same. “You don’t need my permission, you know.”
“Obviously,” I say, turning back toward the office.
“Then what are you asking?”
“I just…thought it might be easier with two people.” I force the words out and keep my gaze on the forest floor.
Pike stops and stares at me. “Are you asking me to go with you?”
“Unfortunately,” I say, unable to reply with something kinder.