Wild is the Witch (46)

I survey the damage, and that’s when I notice that I left the top of my pack open and multiple things are gone. They must have fallen out and floated away when it tipped over, and I dig in my bag, frantically looking for my herbs.

“No,” I say, pulling things out and tossing them aside, desperate to find my supplies. My eyes burn and my head pounds. Once I’ve emptied everything out, I drop my pack and rush toward the main part of the river, following the current, hoping to see my herbs floating on the surface. But they’re gone. All I see are branches and leaves.

I stare at the river, unable to accept it, willing my herbs to materialize at any moment. I need them to unbind the curse—they were the vessel the curse was originally written for; they’re powerful enough to hold it.

And now they’re gone.

I shove my hands through my hair and pace back and forth. I tell myself it’s okay, that the owl is safe for now, but all I can see is Alex on the lake. A sob breaks free from my chest as I picture Pike the same way, flames and smoke and ash, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. I pull the inhaler from my day pack, but it isn’t enough to fill my lungs, to ease the tightness that’s squeezing my airway.

I have to call for help.

I rush to where Pike is setting up the tent, a stretch of earth between two large oaks, mostly free of roots and brambles. It’s at an incline, far enough away to avoid the flooding river. A bunch of ferns sit at the base of the trees, their leaves somehow even richer when covered in rain, and pale lichen crawls along the oaks’ bark, climbing and climbing. I wish I could enjoy it.

“I have to get down to the trailhead,” I say, too fast. “I need to call my mom, and I don’t have reception up here.”

“Is everything okay?” Pike asks.

“I just want to update my mom. Let her know we need more time.” He studies me for a minute, then kneels down and opens his backpack.

“I have a satellite phone,” Pike says. “You can use that.”

“You have a sat phone?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t be very prepared if I didn’t.”

“Well, you didn’t have an extra tent, so I was starting to question it,” I say, and it feels good, joking with him. Pretending that things are normal. That things are okay.

Pike laughs and shakes his head, digging through his pack until he finds the phone. He turns it on and waits for a signal, then hands it over to me.

“Thanks. I’ll be right back,” I say, moving far enough away so he can’t hear me. Then I grab my phone and go to my contacts, pulling up the number Mom gave me for Cassandra.

I take a deep breath, press the numbers, and make the call.

Cassandra answers on the third ring, and even though the connection is weak, her voice distant, distorted by static, it’s enough to make my eyes burn. She used to feel like family, like an older sister, but Amy’s verdict and my trial changed everything, and I’m not prepared for the rush of memories and emotions that accompany those two words from her mouth: “Cassandra Meadows.”

I’m silent for a moment, unable to speak.

“Hello?” she asks.

I clear my throat and finally find my voice. “Cassandra, it’s Iris.”

“Hello, Iris. Your mother informed me that you’re trying to track your lost amplifier.”

“That’s why I’m calling,” I say, holding the phone with one hand and balling up the fabric of my shirt in the other. “It’s injured.” I tell her about the bear we encountered, but I leave out the curse for now.

“That explains the change in energy we’ve felt on the mountain,” Cassandra says once I’m finished. “There’s been a large influx of magic, and I suspect it’s coming from the amplifier.”

“I need your help,” I say. “I think we can save him if we can get him back to the refuge, but I haven’t been able to catch him on my own.”

Cassandra is quiet for a moment, and I can hear her talking in the background to someone else. “Where are you in relation to the owl?”

It took us about an hour to reach the bear, and with the owl flying even farther away, into dense woods with no trails, we’re probably looking at twice that. “At least a two-hour hike.”

“If there’s a chance of survival, we want to take it. But given the rain and how far out you are, I want to wait until the morning to go after him, and you should do the same. Otherwise, you’ll be hiking back in the dark.”

“I don’t think waiting is a good idea. I’m worried he won’t make it through the night.” I try to keep my voice from betraying my panic, but it’s so hard. My entire body pulses with it.

“We want to heal the amplifier as much as you do, but we won’t risk our witches to do it. The terrain here goes from tricky to treacherous once the sun goes down, and the rain only makes it worse. Hold on,” she says, talking away from the phone to whomever she’s with.

“We’ll spell the owl,” she finally says. “We can reach him using the magic he’s leaking. The spell will slow down his injuries and give him more time, if the situation is truly that dire. It won’t last very long, but it will get him through the night. You can resume your search in the morning, and I’ll be on my way as well.”

I breathe out in relief. Cassandra is more experienced than I am, more powerful. If she says her magic will get the owl through the night, I believe her.