Wild is the Witch (62)

“Just eat it,” I say, handing it to him. “I shouldn’t be gone too long.”

I take off toward the owl without another glance at Pike, going as fast as my leg will let me. It’s hazy and gray through the dense woods, and the earth moves easily under my feet, soft and damp. Goose bumps rise on my skin, my stomach exposed to the cold air after using my hem for Pike’s splint.

I follow my trail of magic to the bird, impatient to get back to him. I feel awful for leaving him alone as long as I did and force myself to move faster. I step through a particularly thick patch of brambles, then I see my baseball cap on the ground, right where I left it.

One more step, and the owl comes into view. As well as a coyote standing aggressively over him.

My heart jumps in my throat, and I stop moving, not wanting to spook the coyote. I’m so angry at myself for not leaving the owl somewhere safe, in a hollow or branch, high enough off the ground to avoid predators. But the coyote isn’t burned or injured, which means he hasn’t touched the owl yet.

“I’m sorry for leaving,” I whisper to MacGuffin, and I hope he knows how much I mean it.

Then I turn to the coyote. “No,” I say firmly, locking eyes with him. “Get out of here.”

The coyote doesn’t move from his place over the owl, and he lets out one low growl. Something inside me snaps, and I don’t use magic or gently try to coax him away from the injured bird. Instead, I scream as loudly as I can, waving my arms over my head and making a mad dash toward the animal.

At first I think he’s going to lunge at me, tearing me to shreds, but at the last minute, he runs in the opposite direction, through the trees and behind a large boulder until he’s out of sight.

I drop to the ground, and MacGuffin looks up at me. He’s tired. His eyes are heavy and glassy, but he still looks happy to see me. I can’t believe how attached I am to this stupid bird after everything he’s put me through, but I am, and I’d give anything to get him through this alive.

“I’m happy to see you, too,” I say, removing the towel to assess the damage. His bleeding has started again, but there are no new wounds to address.

I take the same steps as before, rinsing the gash and soaking up some of the blood with gauze. Then I send more magic to the nicked artery, but I’ve done all that I can do.

I want to work on the curse, try to undo it right here, but with my binding herbs gone, I’ll need time to come up with a replacement, and I can’t leave Pike alone for that long. If he starts to show any signs of infection, I have to be there.

“I’m sorry, MacGuffin,” I say, assembling his makeshift nest. “I have to move you, but it’s not far.” I line the boxes with the towel, then gently pick him up and lay him down on top. “Pike will be happy to see you,” I say, grabbing my cap and carefully lifting MacGuffin’s nest.

The owl watches me at first, looking up at me as I carry him through the trees, making my way back toward Pike. But his eyes get heavy, and soon he’s struggling to keep them open.

I’m going to have to unbind the curse out here in the wild, with Pike and his broken leg, with no hope of getting help from my mom or Sarah or anyone else. Cassandra should be here by now, but she isn’t, and she hasn’t used magic on me again, which means something must have come up.

I’m on my own.

Pike’s eyes are closed and his head is tipped back against the tree when I reach him. The empty KIND bar wrapper is sitting on his chest, and I’m embarrassed when my eyes fill with tears.

Pike’s head snaps up, and he looks at me. I blink the tears away and clear my throat.

“He’s dying,” I say. “I have to work on him right now.”

“Here?” Pike asks.

“Yes.”

He looks at MacGuffin, and a sad expression settles on his face. “What if it’s just his time?” he asks, and I remember that Pike still doesn’t know about the curse. He knows I’m a witch, but I haven’t shared the worst part with him.

I swallow hard. “I want to try,” I say, hoping Pike doesn’t hear the way my voice cracks at the end.

I think he’ll question me, tell me to let it go. But he doesn’t.

“Okay,” he says, sitting up straight. “Tell me how I can help.”

I wish I knew, I think to myself, more and more magic pouring into the air as I try to figure out where to begin. My grandmother used to say that curses are the most unpredictable of spells because they tend to have minds of their own, and without my herbs I’m terrified of trying the wrong thing and releasing the curse to the wild. To Pike. I’ve never had to unbind a curse before, and I’m stuck in this forest without the supplies that I need.

But magic is fluid, and there has to be something among these ancient trees that I can use to carry the curse, something strong enough to hold the weight of it. There has to be, and I will try every single plant and root until I find what works.

All I need is for MacGuffin to give me the time to try; I need time. But for an owl so full of magic, so full of wonder, time is something he doesn’t have.





Twenty-Four


The fog is lifting higher, and I realize how long we’ve been at this—Cassandra used her magic on me hours ago. A cool breeze moves through the woods, and it feels good against my sweat-soaked body. Wet leaves and thick branches rustle in the wind, and songbirds sing in the distance.