Wild is the Witch (79)

I walk back toward the shed, shoving my hands into my pockets and keeping my head down, making sure I don’t trip over any roots or stray rocks. Just as I’m about to leave the cover of the trees, something sounds behind me. At first I don’t think much of it; these woods are home to countless animals, always talking to each other in their own ways.

But something about it feels familiar, and I slowly turn.

I step back onto the trail, then stop and listen, waiting for several seconds. Nothing new happens, though, no more sounds or disturbances, and I shake my head and walk away from the woods. Then it happens again.

One long hoot.

A pause.

Two short hoots, closer together.

Another pause.

Then one final hoot.

It sounds exactly like my northern spotted owl, and I rush back into the trees, scanning the branches and cavities for any sign of him. But he isn’t there, he couldn’t be. An impossible hope.

Then I remember the story my mom told me, about the witch who used the sacred owl to curse the home of the man who killed her husband. Legend says the bird still circles over the land, hundreds of years later, forever bound to the place it was cursed.

“MacGuffin?” I ask.

A whoosh of air crosses directly in front of my face, my hair blowing back with the force of it. I laugh, big and loud, and my eyes fill with tears.

He must be here to haunt Pike, just like the owl in the legend haunts the land he was cursed to, and I realize with absolute joy that we will never be rid of him, this obnoxious, loud owl that sent us traipsing through the Pacific Northwest just because he felt like it.

“Welcome back,” I say. “I know someone who will be very happy you’re here.”

Then I rush from the trail and back to the shed, and while I can’t see him, I have the distinct feeling that there is a northern spotted owl, flying at my shoulder the whole way there.





Acknowledgments


If you’ve read this book, thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

My initial pitch for Wild went something like “cursed bird in the Pacific Northwest,” and instead of being told no, I was somehow met with a very enthusiastic yes. I’m extremely thankful to be surrounded by people who believe in my vision, get excited about the things I love, and help me find my way back to the trail when I wander too far off.

First, to Elana Roth Parker, my amazing agent who helped get me through many of my book two woes. Thank you for all that you do. And to the entire Laura Dail Literary Agency team, thank you for taking such good care of my books.

To my editor, Annie Berger, I’m so lucky to work with you. Thank you for your enthusiasm, incredible insight, and unfailing support—your belief in me and this book got me through my worst days of doubt.

To the entire Sourcebooks Fire team, including everyone who works behind the scenes to get my stories into the world: What a joy it is to make books with you. To Beth Oleniczak, you are an absolute rockstar. Thank you for tirelessly making sure my books find their readers. To Madison Nankervis, thank you for your incredible ideas and for sending this book out with such a bang. To Jenny Lopez, Cassie Gutman, and Kelsey Fenske, thank you for readying this book for readers. Thank you to Liz Dresner and Nicole Hower for designing a cover I love so much, and to Michelle Mayhall for making the interior so very beautiful. To Margaret Coffee and Caitlin Lawler, thank you for introducing me to so many amazing librarians, educators, and booksellers, and to Ashlyn Keil for connecting me with readers. And finally, to my publisher, Dominique Raccah, thank you for creating such a wonderful home for me and my stories.

Carolyn Schweitz, thank you for all the hours you’ve given back to me.

To my Pacific Northwest crew, I love you so much. Rachel Lynn Solomon, even with an ocean between us, you remain one of my constants. To Heather Ezell, thank you for being a voice I trust in the moments I’m not sure I trust my own. Tara Tsai, thank you for always lifting me up. Julia Ember, thank you for moving to Seattle and so quickly becoming one of my people. Rosiee Thor, thank you for brainstorming this book with me and helping me find an ending I love.

Adrienne Young, Kristin Dwyer, Adalyn Grace, and Diya Mishra, you make me absolutely love what I do, even on the days when it’s awful. Thank you for being my lifeline. Isabel Iba?ez, Shelby Mahurin, and Jordan Gray, thank you for the incredible love and support you show me. I feel so lucky to have you all.

I’d be remiss not to thank Predators of the Heart Animal Sanctuary for inspiring the wildlife refuge in this book, and the board game Wingspan, which was my first pandemic hobby and is singlehandedly responsible for the conception of this idea.

To my dog Doppler, who sits by my side day after day, my constant companion as I write, rewrite, and write some more.

Chip, thank you for being such a steady, calming presence in my life.

Mom and Dad, thank you for showing me the magic of where we live, from Sunriver to Cannon Beach, Ocean Shores to Leavenworth, to our own backyard. I love you so much.

Mir, this book is dedicated to you, but it doesn’t feel like enough. I’m only able to do this because of your endless support and unconditional love, and I continue to be amazed that anyone is able to publish a book without you. Thank you for making my life so incredibly full.

Ty, I fell in love with you hiking the mountains of the PNW (even though you always said “the summit is just ahead” when it was never “just ahead”), and it’s the best thing that ever happened to me. Thank you for loving me so perfectly, for being my true north and very best friend. I love you with everything.