beautiful and scary. Its eyes were diamonds, and it breathed orange fire at Loki who crawled on all fours away from it.
A little lower, the dragon’s tail was attached to a blowpipe. Cerene’s blowpipe.
There was nothing to doubt anymore, Cerene was what Charmwill Glimmer was to Loki. She used all of her breath, urging the dragon to fire at him.
“What kind of witch are you?” Loki shouted at Shew, raising his sword to fight the glass dragon.
“Cerene,” Shew yelled. “You’re going to die if you keep breathing. Let the dragon fade, and escape with me.”
“I’m glad I found you,” Cerene panted, giving up on the pipe, the huge dragon dimming a little.
“Did you follow me?” She wondered.
“No,” Cerene said. “I followed the chalk marks on the trees and the Rapunzel plants all over the forest. It wasn’t the smartest of moves, Joy. Even though the Rapunzel plants helped slow down the Huntsmen, the chalk on the trees was how Loki must have tracked you.”
“And my singing, too,” Shew added.
“Now the Queen is sending other huntsmen for you.”
“Why did you risk your life coming for me again?” Shew walked to her and grabbed her arm. Loki was fighting the diminishing dragon behind her. Soon it was going to die.
“I had to give you this,” Cerene pulled out Loki’s necklace, and smiled.
“I hope you didn’t hurt Alice,” Shew said, looking at the necklace one more time. She still couldn’t read it, but she put it back on.
“I don’t care about her,” Cerene said vaguely. “Come on. We have to hide in the cottage,” she pointed behind her.
Shew squinted harder, looking for it, “how did I miss it,” she wondered.
“Doesn’t matter,” Cerene said. “It’s our only hope, although it’s not going to be as safe as I thought, now that Loki found you. The whole idea about the cottage was no one could find it. But we have no choice now.”
They ran toward the cottage, holding hands; Cerene held her blowpipe with the other hand while Shew carried her newly tested sword.
36
The Cottage and the Wolf
Shew and Cerene entered the cottage. Cerene turned to lock the door behind them while Shew hurried to lock the windows.
Shew’s first impression was like Deja vu again. She had been there before, but she couldn’t remember the details. If Cerene met Charmwill here, then the cottage was part of her erased memory. She expected to come across clues to the Lost Seven.
The cottage was small and separated into two levels. Three creaking wooden steps led to the higher level, which was occupied with seven beds. They were big beds, used by real people, not dwarves.
The lower level was smaller, lit by pumpkin shaped lanterns, and mostly occupied with an oval-shaped dining table. It was an old table, its surface filled with cracks and engravings. She hurried to it, comparing the cracks to Loki’s necklace.
Still, nothing made sense.
Shew wondered again how such scribbled engravings could hold an important message. She could neither read the engravings on the front or the back of the pendant.
Another thing that caught Shew’s attention was the absence of chairs. There was only one chair while the table that was big enough for eight people. She brushed the tips of her hands over the chair’s back, hoping she’d remember something, the way she remembered her father’s training.
Again, nothing. It was just a chair.
On the table, Shew saw five items: a knife, some scattered beans, breadcrumbs, an empty plate, and a fork. The image of each item gave her a momentary, but acute, migraine. With each item, an image flashed. She caught the image of a boy with a green hat, a girl in a red cloak, and a moon. The rest of the images were unclear. Shew was almost sure these were the Lost Seven, and that each item belonged to one of them.
Why hadn’t she seen an image of Cerene, and what was her item?
Shew altered her gaze between the items and chair for a while. Her gut feeling told her the chair was the sixth item—that’s why there were no other chairs in the house. “They belong to the others I told you about,” Cerene said, pointing at the items on the table. She had begun nailing logs on the windows as if preparing for a zombie attack. “I haven’t been lucky enough to meet them,” she added with a nail between her teeth.
“Is one of the items yours?” Shew asked.
“No,” Cerene said. “I have what I need here,” she lifted her dress, showing her the glass urn underneath. Shew wondered why Cerene hadn’t pointed at her blowpipe.
“And where is the old man, Charmwill?” Shew said.
“Like I said, I only met him once. Funny man, and a funny parrot!” Cerene sucked the blood out of her finger. She’d hurt herself while hammering. “Come help me, and stop talking. We can’t let Loki get in.”
“This doesn’t look like a safe place, Cerene,” Shew commented, rummaging through a box of nails and looking for a hammer.
“I know,” Cerene considered. “But don’t worry. We’ll make it.”
Shew found a hammer and started nailing. She wasn’t enthusiastic about it. Keeping Loki out wasn’t going to be that easy. She kept wondering why Cerene brought her to this cottage. It didn’t look safe. Her first hit with the hammer landed on her finger, too. She let out a scream.
“You need to be tougher,” Cerene giggled.
“You just hurt yourself a second ago,” Shew defended herself.
“That’s true, but I’m not the Chosen One,” Cerene winked.
“How do you know I’m the Chosen One,” Shew’s face tightened. “I never told you.”
“Charmwill told me,” Cerene sighed. “Can you stop talking now and do some work?”
“Why is everyone else telling you things all the time?” Shew wondered. “Is that why you keep coming rescuing me, because you think you should care for the Chosen One?” Shew said.
“Yes!” Cerene snapped again. “Are you happy now? I am supposed to take care of you, the same way you will take care of me. Bianca told me so, and Charmwill told me so. Why is it so hard for you to accept that I am here for you?”
Shew said nothing, and continued hammering. Cerene was right. They were two lost girls with no elder to take care of them. Both were damaged, yet blessed. The Chosen One took care of the Clue, and the Clue took care of the Chosen one. It was like nothing Shew had read in history books before. This was Shew’s and Cerene’s special journey, and they had to do it their own way. Love was not always the answer and friendship was just as important.
The two girls nailed a board over every window for extra security. Cerene had pulled off planes from the beds and used them as logs, and then she blew out the candles and dimmed the cottage.
Finally, the two girls sat on the floor with their backs against the wall, staring at the cottage’s door. Cerene cleaned her blowpipe, but Shew didn’t bother cleaning her sword.
After some time had passed they assumed Loki wasn’t coming for them. Either the glass dragon had killed him or Loki had no idea they were in the cottage. Anticipating silence surrounded the two girls, accompanied by their own breathing.
“Do you think I will able to create fire one day?” Cerene asked in the dark.
“I would like to think so,” Shew said. “You’re still young. Maybe you’ll acquire the talent later.”
“And maybe the Creators are worried I’d use it the wrong way,” Cerene said.
“If I were one of the Creators, I’d gift you with every power available,” Shew said.
“Don’t try to glasscoat your words, Joy,” Cerene said. Shew supposed the phrase meant something like ‘sugar coat.’ Glass was as precious as gold and sweet as sugar to the people of Sorrow—and probably Murano at
