Wild is the Witch (36)
I don’t want to have to change to fit in, to be loved and known and seen. I would rather live a life without love than a life without magic.
“Is everything okay with Pike?” Mom asks, and I realize she’s starting to worry.
“Shockingly, yes,” I say, forcing the words to sound casual. She laughs at that, but I’m too distracted to revel in the sound.
I was at Amy’s trial with my parents, clutching my mother’s hand so tightly my fingers ached for days. When Cassandra walked toward Amy, when she held both her hands and removed her ability to sense magic, tears were streaming down both their faces. Mom and I were crying, too. I respected Cassandra then, not letting anyone else do that to Amy. Choosing to be the one who carried out the sentence.
But I always got the sense that she looked at me with resentment, wishing I had done something more on the lake that night. Or wishing it had been me instead. And I don’t blame her, but I really wish she wasn’t the council member stationed in this area.
“Well, enjoy your last night. Cassandra mentioned a training exercise she’s doing, so it sounds like you’ve got another day before she comes to offer her assistance. I’ll give you her number just in case you need it—she has one of those fancy phones that works with the satellites.”
I save the number and thank Mom for the heads-up.
“How’s the owl?” she asks.
“He seems to be taking an immense amount of pleasure in making me come after him, but he’s otherwise fine.”
She breathes out in relief, and it makes me happy, how much she loves this bird. How much she values him.
“Good. Tell Pike I said hi, and find that owl so you can come home.”
“I will. Love you, Mom.”
When I hang up the phone, I listen to the sound of gravel crunching under my boots. I still have time to get to the owl before Cassandra does. This doesn’t have to end in darkness, in a vote that will make all the magic of the universe flicker and dim, until it finally goes out.
There are other endings, and I will find one.
Fourteen
As we drive up the narrow dirt road to the next trailhead, the clouds above us get darker. It’s the middle of the afternoon, but it looks like twilight, everything muted behind a filter of gray. I sit forward and look through the windshield, watching the treetops sway as the wind picks up.
“This should make for an interesting night,” Pike says as we pull into the parking lot.
“You’re not worried?”
“A little rain never hurt anyone,” he says, putting the car in park. “Why don’t you check on MacGuffin before we start our hike? I’ll unload the back.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer and instead gets out of the car and opens the hatch.
I pull out my phone and open the app, just in case he’s watching, then close my eyes and find my connection to the owl, feel as all our particles snap together in one crisp line leading directly to him.
“Yep, he’s still in the same place.”
“Great,” Pike says through the back. “We’ve got about an hour hike up this time. I’ve actually been here with my dad before, and there’s a beautiful spot by the river where we can set up camp.”
I get out of the car and pull on my North Face shell and a baseball cap. “Do you and your dad go backpacking together a lot?”
“We try to,” Pike says. “When my mom travels for work, we typically schedule something and take off for a few days.”
I slip my pack over my shoulders and tighten the straps, then check the back of the car to make sure I’m not leaving anything. “Is that how you decided to become an ornithologist?”
Pike closes the back of the Subaru, locks it, and adjusts his pack. “Yeah,” he says, “that’s part of it. We spent a lot of time outdoors growing up, and my little brother loved birds. He’d always point them out and try to identify them by their songs.”
We start up the trailhead, the wind sounding louder now that we’re under the cover of the trees. “How old is your brother?” I ask.
Pike falters just slightly as he steps over an exposed root. “He would have been fourteen this year.”
Would have been.
“Oh. Pike, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“Why would you?” he asks, reminding me of what I said when he found out I have asthma. It isn’t said in a mean way, just realistic. This trip is the first time we’ve ever talked about anything of substance, and it’s odd, knowing that the intern who competed with me and gave me such a hard time was always this multilayered person with his own history and tragedy and pain.
Of course he was, but I never saw it.
“I don’t know,” I say quietly.
We fall into silence after that, and a slight rain begins to fall. A storm is rolling in, and I briefly wonder if we should turn back, try to find nearby lodging until it passes. But we’re close to the owl, and with Cassandra somewhere nearby, I don’t want to risk it.
It sounds like we have another day before she starts to look for the owl herself, but it doesn’t feel like enough time, and I’ll need every minute I can get.
I keep my eyes on the ground, being especially careful now that the rocks and roots are slick with rain. It will be much easier for Cassandra to track me if I’m using magic, so from now on, I can’t use it.