But she saw no signs from spirits and no trace of Mama. She searched until dark and stumbled into the cabin weak with exhaustion and hunger. She had to force herself to eat before falling into bed.
At dawn, she returned to her search. This time, she brought a sandwich to keep up her energy. She looked in all of Mama’s favorite places on their ninety acres, calling, “Mama! Mama! Mama!”
Even when she didn’t say it aloud, her name was a constant supplication in her mind. Mama. Mama. Mama. I need you, Mama! Please come back!
As the sun sank low, she searched near the stream and swimming hole for a second time. Mama loved that place. She carefully scoured the weeds and brambles. She waded into the stream and looked into thickets on either side. When she got to the junk pile, she searched it thoroughly, even inside the old Invicta. She doubted Mama had ever gone there—she would have seen it as a blight on the earth—but Raven was desperate. In two and a half days, she’d covered the entire property and found no sign of Mama.
Darkness slowly swallowed her. Utterly spent, she plopped into the stream in front of the Wolfsbane. She looked up at the strange tower of objects, resenting that it was still there and Mama wasn’t.
“You didn’t scare away the werewolf,” she said to the Madonna. “Mama made the boys and me safe. Mama killed the werewolf. You never did anything!”
She dropped her head between her muddy knees and wept.
There was no moon or stars to guide her, and she was too tired to go home. She didn’t want to be in the house without Mama anyway. Maybe she would lie down in the creek stones and let the spirits take her. That surely was what Mama had done. She had gone to the spirit world. That was why there was no trace of her on their land.
Of course she had. Mama had a deep understanding of the earth few ever attained. She was powerful. She had brought a baby, body and all, out of the spirit world. And now she had finally discovered how to bring her body there.
Raven thought of her last conversation with Mama.
You are my miracle. You have been the best sixteen years of my life.
You will have my spirit with you always, dear one. You need only look at the beauty of the earth, and I’ll be there.
She had been saying goodbye. Raven understood that now.
When she’d said, “I talked to the spirits. They will give me what I need,” she meant she’d figured out how to go to their world. That was why she’d looked so bright and happy. Raven understood why she wanted to go. Living in her sick body in the human world had been agony for Mama. And she hated for Raven to see her like that.
The note she’d left in the kitchen. Those were Mama’s last words for her: I’ll be out for a while. You will see me soon. I love you. Mama.
Raven wondered what she’d meant. Why would she say she was coming back if it wasn’t true? She must have been certain she would return. Maybe she knew it would take some time to heal and find her way back. That was why she’d said she would be out for a while.
Her heart pounded. Mama was coming back. That was why she hadn’t said goodbye, why she hadn’t left instructions for how to take care of the house without her.
Raven stood, and her head swam with dizziness. She’d barely eaten during the relentless searching. The darkness would make navigating home difficult. One side of her wanted to lie down and become one with Mama’s world. Her other side, her human side, wanted Jackie.
Her need for him rose up in her like the spirits of every hungry animal in that forest. His house was closer than hers, but getting there without stars or moon would be difficult. She would almost have to feel her way.
She could do it. If she were blind, she would know how to find that sweet little house.
By the time she arrived at the fence, she was bruised and scraped and covered in mud. She stopped on the Hooper side of the fence and looked to the guiding light of the house windows.
What would she tell them? She couldn’t explain. Not even to Jackie.
She ducked through the fence, staggered to the front door, and rang the bell. Ms. Danner answered. “Raven!” she said. “Come in!”
Jackie and his mother stared at her.
“What happened to you?” Jackie asked.
“I got lost. I was walking and forgot to bring a flashlight. There’s no moon or stars tonight.”
He knew she was lying. She saw it in his eyes.
Ms. Danner frowned, too. “Let’s get you some dry clothes,” she said.
Raven followed. She stumbled on a chair and nearly fell, but Jackie caught her.
She took a stack of Jackie’s clothes into the bathroom, and when she looked in the mirror, she understood why they were alarmed by her appearance. Her hair was tangled with leaves and vines. Her face was smeared with dirt, one cheek scratched by a blackberry vine. Her clothes were wet and filthy.
She turned on the faucet and gulped water with her cupped hand. Then she rubbed the water over her face. She hardly had enough energy to change into the clean clothes. Jackie’s soft, soap-scented sweats were like a warm embrace.
“Are you hungry?” Ms. Danner asked.
“A little,” she said. She had to eat,
